


The Prettiest Alpha

by halcyon1993



Series: The Kinky Adventures of a Wolf and His Boy [25]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Aftercare, Alpha Derek Hale, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bathing/Washing, Body Worship, Bottom Derek Hale, College Student Stiles, Come Eating, Come Sharing, Crossdressing Kink, Derek Hale Deserves Nice Things, Developing Relationship, Dom Stiles Stilinski, Dom/sub, Everybody Lives, First Time Bottoming, Fluff, Getting Together, Hairy Derek Hale, Insecure Derek Hale, Kink Negotiation, Light Angst, Light Bondage, Lingerie, Love Confessions, M/M, Makeup, Making Love, Oral Sex, Panties, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Post-Coital Cuddling, Praise Kink, Punishment, Rimming, Safe Sane and Consensual, Spanking, Sub Derek Hale, Top Stiles Stilinski
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-07
Updated: 2018-08-07
Packaged: 2019-06-23 10:37:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 22,652
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15604452
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/halcyon1993/pseuds/halcyon1993
Summary: Derek has a secret. He wears lingerie beneath his clothes, likes how the delicate lace and silk feels against his skin. It's almost like a security blanket, something that makes him feel good about himself and is just for him. Then Stiles finds out.





	The Prettiest Alpha

**Author's Note:**

> As always with this series, don't judge me for the depravity I have written.
> 
> For any of my regular readers who might have been wondering why it has been 10 whole days since I last posted anything, you now know why. I was busy working on this _monster_ of a fic. Enjoy! ;)

Derek sits apart from the rest of his pack at their weekly meeting. They are supposed to use these meetings to discuss important matters, but since nothing new has shown up trying to kill them all of late, they have recently all devolved into fun and games. This one is no different, having turned into a movie night. The last movie has been over for a while and most of the pizzas they'd ordered are gone, and now the pack are scattered around the main space of the loft. Derek himself doesn't add anything to any of the conversations. He is perfectly fine just listening to the inane chatter filling up a space that usually feels empty and cold. It makes his loft feel warm and homey, almost like the memories he has of his old pack back in their house in the preserve.

Erica, Boyd and Lydia are by the staircase. The two girls bicker about the latest fashion trend or something, while Boyd stands silently next to his girlfriend and twists a lock of her long blonde hair around his fingers.

Scott, Allison, Cora and Stiles are on the sofa to Derek's left. The two best friends laugh at some inside joke that he doesn't get—and judging by the confusion on his sister's and Allison's faces, they don't get it either.

Lastly, on the sofa to Derek's right, Isaac canoodles with Danny.

After a few more minutes, in which he polishes off the last two slices of meat feast pizza that his ravenous betas somehow hadn't already eaten, Derek gets up from his seat and walks into the kitchen feeling parched. While he is in there, all the sounds of laughing, petty squabbling and soft kissing back in the main room fade into a comforting white noise. Derek finds himself reminiscing whilst he leans back against the counter with a cold beer in his hand.

He can't believe it's been three years since all of this craziness started, since he returned to Beacon Hills, fought tooth and nail—or claw—to survive and ended up with a bunch of misfit friends along the way. Friends he never knew he needed.

Derek remembers all the mistakes he'd made, starting with Kate Argent. To this day she remains his biggest mistake, but the others are no less bad.

He turned Jackson, Erica, Boyd and Isaac without warning them properly. He thought he told them enough at the time, but hindsight tells him he failed them there. Then there was how he treated them when he was training them, making demands, being rude and even breaking Isaac's arm when he complained that Derek was pushing them too hard. Derek was riding so high on his newly acquired alpha power that he never stopped to reassess his methods, which resulted in Erica and Boyd leaving the pack and being captured by Gerard and Allison Argent.

Derek almost lost them then, and he _did_ lose Jackson when all was said and done and Jackson's parents moved their small family to England. That part wasn't exactly Derek's fault, but he still felt bad when Lydia told him a couple of weeks later that Jackson had already seemed to settle into a pack over there in a way he could never have settled in with Derek as his alpha.

Then the Alpha Pack and Jennifer Blake came to town. Derek still isn't sure how he managed to get Erica and Boyd back alive—and with his not-so-dead little sister to boot—but it happened, and from then on he did everything he could to treat his pack right. Of course, he still made sure they could defend themselves, but he was no longer their taskmaster. Through teamwork, they managed to defeat both the Alpha Pack, and then Jennifer, but not before Derek almost made another mistake by sleeping with her. He is so thankful that he didn't, even if the reason made him ashamed.

All of that culminates in where they are now. His pack is happy, most of them going to the local college because they didn't want to move away from each other. The exceptions are Lydia and Isaac. Lydia is going to Oxford, Derek suspects to be close to Jackson again, and she is only back in town for a short visit. Isaac decided to skip college altogether and runs his dad's old business. But even with how good things seem to be nowadays, Derek isn't that comfortable with the position he holds. Sure, he works hard to make sure he is the best alpha he can be, but sometimes he believes it would be better for everybody if someone else were in charge.

While he thinks, Derek sips from his beer and slips his other hand under the hem of his light-grey henley. He finds the waistband of the lace panties he has on beneath his jeans and rubs the pads of his fingers and thumb over it, taking comfort in the soft material. This is another thing that he thinks he is doing wrong. He is a fully grown man—an _alpha_. He shouldn't love feeling lace and silk against his skin, shouldn't feel more secure in himself with something pretty beneath his clothes.

But he does.

He has only ever told one person about this need of his, and he regretted it.

The words Kate sneered at him humiliated him so much that he threw out the nice pieces he'd been able to purchase for himself and didn't revisit it until he was back in Beacon Hills years later and desperately needed the feeling it gave him. He has had a couple of close calls since then, when someone else almost found out—when he was facing off against his Uncle Peter and got nicked with a claw along his thigh, exposing an inch of the stockings he was wearing that day; and when he had his aforementioned brief tryst with Jennifer and she'd reached for the button of his jeans in the aftermath of him being roughed up by the Alpha Pack. That was why he stopped her: because he didn't want her to see the panties he had on.

It's dangerous, but Derek needs it. He needs to feel good.

It's not until he hears a choked sound from a few feet away that he realises he is no longer alone in the kitchen. He turns his head to find Stiles standing in the doorway.

"Uhh… _dude_ …" The nineteen-year-old gapes, his eyes wide and glued to Derek's waist.

Derek looks down as well and his breathing stops when he sees that, during his rumination, he had accidentally pulled a section of his black panties out from beneath his shirt, and they are clearly visible between his fingers and thumb.

Derek can feel the blood draining from his face and drops his beer. It shatters on the floor.

"Stiles? You okay in there?" a worried voice calls from the main room.

Stiles shakes his head quickly, as if coming back to himself, and responds without looking away from Derek's eyes. "Yeah, just me being clumsy! Derek's got it."

With that, the boy leaves the kitchen again.

* * *

For the last half hour the meeting goes on, Derek is on edge, just waiting for Stiles to tell everyone about what he discovered.

But it doesn't happen.

Stiles avoids looking at him, but he doesn't breathe one word to anyone about Derek's panties, not even Scott. Maybe he is waiting until he can get his best friend by himself and then they'll both laugh it up. God, Derek hopes not. He'd never survive the embarrassment, and he doesn't want to have to throw out all the lingerie he has recently bought to replace his last lot. Not just because it would be a waste of money, but because he doesn't know how he would cope without them now.

Wearing lingerie has become even more of a security blanket for him than it was before, makes him feel like less of a failure. He thinks he would probably go crazy if he couldn't do it anymore.

When his pack begins leaving, Derek releases a sigh of relief. Stiles still hasn't said anything, so he believes that maybe the teenager will just pretend that he saw nothing and they can both go on with their lives as normal. Of course, as is just his luck, Derek quickly finds out that this won't be the case when he hears someone slide closed the loft's metal door and he turns around to find that Stiles is still on this side of it.

"What do you want?" Derek asks him warily, crossing his arms over his chest where he stands next to the coffee table.

Stiles doesn't answer him, choosing instead to give a question of his own: "Is everyone gone?"

Using his supernatural hearing, Derek listens as the last of his betas' vehicles fades into the distance, meaning they can't hear him either. "Yes."

"Good. So, uh…panties, huh?"

Derek clenches his jaw. "Go home, Stiles. We're not talking about this."

"Hey, it's nothing to feel bad about, dude," the teenager says casually, walking forward. As he approaches, Derek darts around to the back of the sofa, placing it between them. Stiles keeps coming, though, and ends up kneeling on it with his hands curled around the back. "C'mon, talk to me," he entreaties, his face open and earnest.

Derek narrows his eyes. "Why would I do that?"

"Because I get the feeling that, while you obviously like it, you're not really okay with liking it and _I_ don't like _that_. Y'know?"

Derek doesn't know. It takes him too many seconds to decipher that sentence, and when he does he can feel himself shutting down, Kate's mocking voice echoing in his head. "Leave it alone, Stiles."

"I won't tell anyone else, if that's what you're worried about," the boy persists.

"Stiles…" Derek's voice carries a slight growl now.

"Okay, how about this: I'll tell you one of my kinks, and then you tell me about the panties. Deal?"

Shocked, the alpha stares at his human pack member. Did he really just suggest that?

"Yeah, I did, Sourwolf. Good ears."

And apparently Derek is thinking out loud now. "No deal," he grits out.

"Well I'm gonna talk anyway. See, I have this thing for stubble, you don't even know. Stubble burn kinda hurts afterwards, but in the moment? There's nothing better than feeling it scraping across my skin."

Great. Now Derek's head is filled with images of Stiles' pale skin all red and irritated. When did Stiles get so confident in himself? Derek recalls how awkward the boy had been when they first met. No awkwardness is present now, just a self-assuredness that is honestly admirable. The fact that Stiles has obviously got rid of his pesky virginity—Stiles' words, not Derek's—since starting college gets a reaction out of Derek's inner wolf that surprises him. It's almost possessive.

"Ah, I see I'm on to something there," Stiles observes, grinning like the little shit he is. "I also have a thing for the growling. Whenever you growl at me like you just did, it doesn't have the effect on me that you want it to have."

"It…it doesn't?" Derek asks. God help him, he's curious now.

"Nope. Just turns me on."

There is something unidentifiable in Stiles' eyes that makes it impossible for Derek to look away. "Any growling? Even Scott's?" he dares to ask.

Stiles bursts out laughing. "Jesus Christ, no! Scott's my brother. He could never turn me on in a million years. And the others, while all unfairly hot, don't either. Not really."

"They don't?"

"Nope," Stiles responds, popping the P. "And you wanna know why?"

"Why?"

"Because it's just you, Sourwolf. And now I have a whole bunch of new fantasies to think about when I'm in bed at night. Or, if you want, they don't have to just be fantasies."

Derek can't think, can't process what is happening. He just stands there with his mouth hanging open like a moron.

Stiles waves his hand in front of the alpha's face. "Dude, did I break you?"

Snapping his mouth closed, Derek turns around to face the large window that takes up nearly the entire wall and wraps his arms around his torso, almost like he is shielding himself. He doesn't want to admit it, but he is tempted by Stiles' offer. He thought the idiot was cute that day in the preserve, when he and Scott came to find Scott's lost inhaler. Cute but annoying. His opinion of Stiles stayed pretty much the same for a while, until it didn't.

Somewhere along the way, through perilous situations in which they were forced to rely on each other to stay alive, Derek's opinion changed for the better and he began not to get so annoyed by Stiles' loquaciousness. Plus, when the teenager grew his hair out after the Gerard/kanima debacle, he only got cuter, and he didn't even know it. Derek had never seriously looked at another guy like that before. Sure, he experimented a bit when he got to New York, when just the thought of being with another woman after Kate made his skin crawl, but he never did it with the intention of it leading to anything.

But then there was the age thing hanging him up. Stiles was too young, too innocent, for Derek to taint him with his poor decisions.

But now…is Derek actually considering it?

Stiles is nineteen now, a legal adult. He's here, ready and willing and seemingly not horrified to discover what Derek likes to wear beneath his everyday clothing. No, he can't. Can he? _Fuck, this is hard!_ he thinks, glaring up at the dark sky.

"Well, not yet, but I can get there pretty quickly, if you want," Stiles says from behind him.

"I said that out loud again, didn't I?" Derek sighs, annoyed with himself. He normally has much better control of his tongue. If anything, Stiles is the one who is more likely to do something like this.

"Yeah, you did," Stiles confirms, sounding endlessly amused.

"You're not…you don't mind?" Derek enquires.

Stiles snorts and when he responds, his voice is filled with desire and his trademark sass, while still somehow conveying to Derek that he is being one hundred percent sincere. "What, the panties? Hell no, dude! If anything, I think it would be super hot to see you in them. Not that you'd need anything else to make you hot because, I mean, you've seen yourself, right? But yeah, you in panties? That's prime spank bank material right there."

"Okay."

The word is out before Derek can stop it. Not that he really wanted to.

"Really? Awesome!"

Derek hears Stiles get up from the sofa and then the boy appears in front of him. "Can I kiss you?"

Derek nods hesitantly, his heart beating a mile a minute in his chest.

Stiles is hesitant too as he cups Derek's scruffy cheeks in his hands and brings their faces closer together. He pauses for a moment before their lips connect, looking into Derek's eyes as if to make sure he is really fine with this happening. He must see the answer they both want him to see, because he nods and then presses his lips to Derek's.

For his part, Derek holds completely still. He still has his arms wrapped around himself, but he quickly forgets about any vulnerability he had felt when Stiles begins moving. He is surprised by how skilled the younger man is, and again jealousy shoots through him at the thought of who taught Stiles to kiss like this. It's simple, still close-mouthed, just lips brushing against lips, but Derek has never been more affected by any kiss before. Not the ones with Kate, not with Jennifer, and certainly not with his few meaningless flings in New York.

It's perfect, and he doesn't even mind that Stiles is apparently treating him as something delicate, something that needs—or deserves—to be taken care of. Stiles thinks it's true, and somehow Derek feels safe enough to let him.

"I've wanted to do that for years," the teenager murmurs when the kiss ends. He rests their foreheads together.

Derek blinks dumbly. "You have?"

"Yeah."

"Oh…I never realised."

Stiles draws back at that, a small smile on his lips. "You really couldn't tell how gone I was for you? How gone I _am_ for you?"

Derek shakes his head. It's not a lie. He really couldn't, but he hadn't really been looking.

"Well, I was gone pretty much from the moment we met. You were actually the guy who made me realise I'm bisexual," Stiles explains, moving his hands down from Derek's cheeks to his broad shoulders. "I mean, at first it was purely a physical thing. You were kind of a dick back then, but I get why now. You were protecting yourself. But when the pack started to get closer and I saw who you were hiding, when I saw that you're an insanely good person who'd just been fucked over in the worst ways, it became more than that. I'm surprised you didn't know. I think everyone else at least suspects."

"Guess I'm just stupid then," Derek says. He means it to come off as a joke, but Stiles must hear the genuine self-deprecation in his voice because he frowns at him.

"You're not stupid, Sourwolf."

Derek looks away—or he tries to anyway, because Stiles grabs his chin in a gentle yet forceful grip and makes their eyes meet again.

"You're not stupid," Stiles repeats. "I've seen the shit you read. You're _amazing_."

Derek isn't sure what to do with himself when the younger man takes his hand and leads him over to where his bed is in the corner of the loft. He feels funny. No one has ever called him 'amazing' before, and he isn't sure what to make of it. He knows Stiles wasn't lying. His heartbeat remained steady, and he doesn't believe that Stiles would even attempt to lie about something like that. Derek can't see what's so amazing about himself, but he trusts Stiles' opinion more than his own, even when such a compliment leaves him slightly breathless and makes all the blood not currently in his dick rush up to turn his face and ears red.

When they reach the bed, Stiles climbs onto it on his knees and brings Derek with him. The alpha doesn't object as he is guided to lie down on his back in the middle, his head hitting the pillows with a soft _whump_.

"Stiles…" he whispers, still feeling off-kilter.

The younger man shushes him, pushes his legs apart and fits himself between them. "Just relax."

Derek struggles to swallow around the lump in his throat. He nods.

The smile Stiles gives him as he says, "Good," is worth it.

The next thing Derek knows, Stiles is leaning over him and kissing him again, his forearms on either side of his head. Derek moans when their clothed crotches rub together and can't help but buck up into his new lover, chasing the friction while his legs wrap themselves automatically around Stiles' hips to keep him in place. Having never been beneath someone else like this before, things don't come naturally to Derek. He isn't sure what he should be doing, so he settles for placing his hands on Stiles' chest and relaxing as best he can. Just like Stiles told him to.

For a few minutes this goes on, both of them just grinding against and kissing each other. The kiss is open-mouthed this time, after Stiles licked questioningly across Derek's lips and the alpha willingly parted them for him. The way he tastes is intoxicating. Derek can detect pizza sauce and pepperoni on the younger man's tongue, but beneath that there is something that is uniquely Stiles which he could very quickly become addicted to.

It's dangerous, and Derek wants it.

Unfortunately for him, Stiles ends the kiss soon after the desire strikes him.

"Can I see?" Stiles asks him, his eyes curious and eager.

Derek unwraps his legs from around Stiles' hips and allows him to sit up again so that he can see what he is doing, and then he lies there with his hands nervously clenching and unclenching in the sheets.

Stiles must notice his anxiety, because he slides his hands several times up and down Derek's quivering thighs, soothing him with his touch. It's incredibly effective. By the time Stiles stops, Derek has calmed as much as he thinks he can. He trusts Stiles, he really does, but he also knows that he won't be able to truly calm down until the teenager has seen him in his lingerie and proved that he really likes it as much as he claimed he would.

"Let's get your shirt off first," Stiles suggests. He grabs Derek's hands and uses them to pull him up into a sitting position.

Derek allows Stiles to take care of everything for him. The only thing he does himself is raise his arms when Stiles takes hold of the hem of his henley and starts peeling it up. Once it's off, thrown to Stiles' left without care, Stiles presses a hand to Derek's sternum and pushes him to lie back down against pillows that are ridiculously soft and fluffy.

"Still as hot as ever," Stiles comments, not shy with his touches. He strokes across every inch of Derek's torso he can reach, enjoying the dips and planes of his abs and the unblemished state of his skin, not a single scar in sight thanks to his werewolf healing. The thin trail of hair that leads from his bellybutton to the waistband of his jeans calls to Stiles, but he ignores it for now, as hard as it is to do so. He'll get there soon, but he would like to provide Derek with some extra reassurance first—and finish ogling him, of course.

"I'm super glad you stopped shaving your chest," Stiles says, ruffling Derek's dark chest hair.

"You are?" Derek responds quietly, still just lying there. He doesn't think he could move unless Stiles told him to, and such docility isn't as worrying as it probably should be.

"For sure. You were hot before, obviously, but a hairy chest just takes it to another level."

Once he has finished with Derek's torso, Stiles stares raptly down at his crotch as he undoes his jeans. He can see a considerable bulge hidden beneath and wonders how on earth it would fit inside a pair of panties.

He's about to find out.

When the zipper is undone, Stiles curls his fingers around the waistband of Derek's jeans and glances up at his face. He'll wait as long as the alpha needs him to, but he doesn't end up having to wait as long as he thought he might for Derek to gather his courage and lift up his hips. With this invitation, Stiles pulls down Derek's jeans and doesn't look closely until he has them all the way off of Derek's legs. He has to stop briefly to take off Derek's trainers as well, but then he throws all three items over the side of the bed to join his henley on the floor and finally looks at his stunning prize.

It's…indescribable.

Derek's feet and most of his legs are covered in black stockings, which end mid-thigh with lace trim. The material is thin enough that Stiles can see his leg hair through it, something that he didn't really think about before but finds now that he doesn't mind at all.

Further up, Stiles gapes when he sees the panties. They're black as well, but unlike the stockings they're entirely made of lace. They must have been made specifically with the male body in mind, because at the front there is a small pouch for a man's genitals to rest comfortably inside without getting squashed down too much. The pouch is still too small for Derek, though. Stiles was right about the alpha being well-endowed. Derek's cock is thick and long, trapped diagonally beneath where the lace panties run up to his right hip. Stiles guesses that he is around eight inches long, maybe even nine, and his balls look large and heavy, pulling the lace pouch taut.

The waistband of the panties is low-cut, meaning that the top of Derek's pubic hair peaks out. Before, Stiles had envisioned that Derek would be shaved smooth down here to really live the full fantasy, but now that he has seen the reality, that Derek still has his body hair untamed, Stiles very much approves. It's like all of his bisexual dreams come to life, the masculinity of Derek's muscles, junk and body hair contrasted with the delicate undergarments.

"God _damn_ , look at you…" Stiles says reverently, putting his hands on Derek's calves.

The werewolf shifts restlessly atop the sheets, not entirely comfortable under Stiles' scrutiny when he doesn't know the verdict.

"Never seen anything more sexy in my life," Stiles continues, giving Derek his answer.

"Really?"

Stiles meets Derek's gaze, and the heat that is in his eyes, his pupils dilated, is all the proof the alpha needs.

"Really," Stiles confirms anyway. "Can I touch you?"

Derek takes a breath and then gives his permission with another nod.

"I need to hear you say it, Sourwolf," Stiles presses gently. "Complete consent here."

It's tough, but eventually Derek manages to force his request out. "Please…I want you to touch me."

Stiles repositions himself so that he is lying on Derek's left, still fully clothed. This fact just makes Derek feel all the more exposed, a feeling that he both relishes and doesn't like, but only because he isn't used to it.

"I'm gonna touch you now. Tell me if I do anything you don't like and I'll stop right away. Okay?"

"O-okay," Derek confirms.

Stiles presses a chaste kiss to Derek's broad shoulder and then skates his left hand up the inside of Derek's thigh. It tickles slightly, and Derek tenses up again the closer Stiles gets to his crotch. He closes his eyes and listens as the teenager murmurs soft words in his ear, telling him how good he looks and how great Stiles thinks he is, that he is so grateful to Derek for letting him have this. It helps, and by the time Stiles stops walking his index and middle fingers back and forth over the crease where his thigh meets his hip, Derek is ready for what comes next. In fact, he is so riled up by Stiles' praise that he is already close to coming.

He sucks in a sharp breath when Stiles cups him through his panties.

"Breathe, Sourwolf," Stiles urges him. "Just keep breathing."

It takes a lot of effort for Derek to comply, but he does and tries not to grind up into Stiles' hand.

"So good for me," Stiles whispers, and that is his undoing.

Derek would rather not examine why, but Stiles telling him he is good has his orgasm tearing through him. He whimpers and turns his face away as he soaks his panties with come, his whole body shaking. When it's over, he is so mortified that he never wants to open his eyes again, just wants to pretend that it never happened. Stiles doesn't seem inclined to talk about what just occurred yet either, just moves his hand off of Derek's softening cock and rolls the werewolf over to face him. Derek is reluctant because he thinks it means they _will_ be talking about it so soon, but Stiles takes mercy on him, tucking his face into his neck instead and petting him everywhere. It speaks to how seriously the younger man is taking things that he doesn't make a dog joke.

"Derek?" Stiles calls quietly, several long minutes later. "You back with me?"

For a moment, Derek considers not answering, but he owes Stiles an explanation. A short one, though, because that's all he feels he can give.

"I'm with you," he says, his voice hoarse. He withdraws from Stiles' neck but doesn't look at him.

"You really got worked up, huh?"

"Yeah, I guess…"

Stiles pauses to cup the werewolf's cheek with his left hand and thread the fingers of his right through Derek's. He strokes his thumb back and forth over his cheekbone. "Wanna tell me what set you off? Might be useful to know in the future. If you wanna do this again, 'cause I definitely do."

Derek bites his bottom lip nearly hard enough to make it bleed. "I just…it's been a while," he ends up saying. It's not a lie, exactly—it really has been a long time since he has been touched by someone else like that, consensually, at least—but it isn't the full truth either. Derek himself can't really handle that, even in his head, the new kink that has been uncovered for him by Stiles' many compliments and words of praise. It's like a craving for him—already he wants more, but he doesn't know how to ask for it so he just stays silent.

Stiles hums, accepting the answer, even though, with a glance at his expression, Derek can tell that he knows there's more to it.

"Alright. And about doing this again?"

"I-I'd like that," Derek says, squirming a bit because the come staining his panties is beginning to dry.

Stiles grins and kisses the alpha's forehead. "Awesome. Why don't you go get washed up, and I'll get you something clean to wear, okay?"

"Okay."

No longer shaking, Derek leaves the bed and is aware that Stiles' gaze is on his ass as he walks toward the bathroom.

Once his Sourwolf has shut himself away and he hears the shower running behind the door, Stiles gets off the mattress too and walks over to the dresser that is positioned a few feet from the bed. It consists of five drawers in four rows. The bottom three drawers run the length of the dresser, and the top row is split into two smaller drawers. Logic dictates that the latter will contain Derek's socks and underwear, and a quick check tells Stiles that he is right.

The next one down is filled with Derek's many henleys and a few sweaters. Most of them are black or grey or in muted colours, but there is the occasional pop of something brighter here and there. Stiles spots what he recalls is his favourite of Derek's henleys, a long-sleeved maroon thing with a deep V-neck. He considers getting it out for the alpha to wear after he is done with his shower but ends up deciding against it. Shirtless is the way to go, so Stiles just has to find something for his bottom half, a pair of sweatpants or something.

The third drawer is filled with jeans and said sweatpants, all rolled up and organised neatly. As Stiles looks through them for the softest pair, a thought hits him and he looks at the closed bathroom door. He highly doubts that the black panty and stocking set Derek was wearing this evening is the only lingerie he owns, and although it feels like an invasion of privacy, Stiles is curious about what others Derek has tucked away somewhere. There is only one way to find out, so Stiles sets aside the pair of sweatpants he had selected and closes the drawer. There is only one left to search.

Desperate to see if the lingerie is inside, Stiles pulls it open with a bit too much force and is disappointed when all he sees is a bunch of miscellaneous clothing items that don't fit into the other drawers. There is a spare leather jacket, this one older-looking than the one Derek usually wears. It's almost like it's an heirloom or something. Next to this is some winter wear that Stiles doesn't think he has ever seen Derek in, and finally there is a wooden box. He peeks inside, his curiosity once again getting the better of him, but he shuts the lid again when the first thing he sees is a gold necklace with the name _LAURA_ hanging from the chain.

The box's contents are definitely items that used to belong to Derek's family, and while Stiles has already looked too much through the werewolf's things, there _is_ a limit.

Stiles is about to give up and settle on the sweatpants when he sees something at the very back of the drawer, mostly hidden by the other things inside it. He reaches for it and ends up with a metre-long rectangular box lying across his knees. It's not very heavy, so whatever is inside must be light.

 _This has to be it,_ Stiles thinks.

Sure enough, when he opens the box, he finds many different pieces of lingerie. Unlike the rest of Derek's wardrobe, most of them are colourful.

The left side of the box is reserved for panties. Stiles counts ten pairs. One is plain black lace, just like what Derek wore earlier. A second is also black, but attached to the hips it has tiny bows made of neon-blue ribbon. The next three are red with black ribbons, plain hot-pink, and a deep forest green. The last five are all made of different materials and with different cuts, coloured orange, blue, purple, yellow and white. On the right side of the box are more stockings. Most of them match a different pair of panties. Some are just like the pair Derek wore and would end mid-thigh, but others have suspenders that would presumably attach to the matching panties.

Needless to say, as Stiles fingers some of the lace and silk in the box, he is as hard as a rock in his boxer-briefs.

"Stiles?"

Startling, the nineteen-year-old almost throws the whole box up in the air in his haste to turn to the bathroom doorway, in which Derek stands clad in just a towel.

"What are you doing?" the alpha asks him.

"Sorry…it's no excuse, but I was curious," Stiles explains guiltily.

"It's okay," Derek says, surprising them both.

"It is?"

While he still looks uncertain and it obviously requires a lot of bravery, Derek says, "Well yeah. You've already seen one, so…"

Looking back down at the open box across his knees, Stiles considers its contents carefully. "So if I chose one of these for you to wear to bed, you'd do it? You'd feel most comfortable in these, right?"

Derek blushes and looks at the space between his bare feet, but he nods. "Yeah."

Exceptionally glad, Stiles peruses the various garments once more and selects the matching pair of red panties and stockings. "These," he says, holding them up for Derek's approval.

"Sure," Derek assents, walking forward to collect them.

The alpha brings them to the bed and unfolds them with such care that it's clear to Stiles that he treasures them. While Derek busies himself getting dressed, the human closes the box containing the rest of the lingerie and stows it back in its home in the back of the bottommost dresser drawer. For good measure, he rearranges the other things that he displaced, making extra sure that, should anyone else look there, the box is as hidden as it can be.

When Stiles shuts the drawer and stands up, he finds Derek waiting by the bed in his red lingerie. They fit much the same as the black set, but something about the bright red against Derek's skin seems even more alluring somehow. The alpha looks sheepish again and his eyes are tired, likely because all of the emotions he has gone through over the past hour or so took their toll on him. _My poor Sourwolf,_ Stiles thinks.

"Gimme a minute and then we'll go to bed, okay?" he says. He takes the grey sweatpants for himself and moves to take his turn in the bathroom. "You're good with me using your stuff, right?"

Derek stares at him. "You're sleeping over?"

"Well, yeah. I'm not really the love-'em-and-leave-'em type."

"Oh."

Stiles shoots the werewolf a playful wink and slips into the bathroom. He gets ready to go to sleep quickly, having used Derek's bathroom enough times over the past couple of years to know where pretty much everything is. The final step Stiles takes is to retrieve a spare toothbrush from the multipack beneath the sink and use some of Derek's toothpaste to brush his teeth, and then he switches off the light and heads back into the main room.

He finds most of the lights switched off in here now too, just the moon and the lamp on Derek's bedside table providing any illumination. It's enough for Stiles to pick his way back over to the bed in his borrowed sweatpants and walk around to the side that isn't already occupied. Derek sits up against the pillows, the sheets up to his waist, but when Stiles joins him he slides down so that his head is on the pillows instead.

"Turn over," Stiles tells him. "I'm in the mood to spoon."

Derek does so and lies still as Stiles scoots up behind him and wraps him up in his arms. It's an odd feeling at first, being held like this, but after Stiles kisses the back of his neck and soon starts snoring softly behind him, Derek can admit that he likes it. It provides him with a sense of rightness he hasn't felt since he was much younger and which he never thought he would get back again. He can feel Stiles' bare skin against his back, warm and alive, and the softness of his sweatpants against the two inches of skin on the backs of his thighs that aren't covered by his red stockings.

Faster than he thought he would, Derek's eyes droop and he drifts off, safe, content and happy with the knowledge that he has found someone who doesn't judge him for what he needs.

Someone who was right under his nose all along.

* * *

Not much changes after that night. Stiles and Derek still see each other quite often, but it's usually in the company of at least a couple other members of the pack. For the most part, Stiles treats him the same as he always has. The only difference is that he is a bit more tactile when no one else is looking.

It's a week later now, and Derek is sat reading a book on his sofa when he hears Stiles pull his Jeep to a stop outside.

Derek thinks it's strange. He wasn't expecting any company, but he'd be lying if he said that the sound of the freight elevator making its ascent in another part of the building didn't have his blood pumping with excitement. He puts down his book, after making sure his bookmark is in place, and stands up when he hears the elevator arrive at his floor. This evening he is dressed in a white tank top and a pair of dark-blue jeans, beneath which he has on his set of green lingerie. The memories of what he and Stiles had done the last time they were in this position have him shuddering with anticipation both good and bad.

The opposite emotions stem from the same possibility: It might happen again. Derek is sure that this thing between him and Stiles could be wonderful, but he is still withholding the truth of his reactions last time, and the more times they do this, the more pressing it will get that he spill that truth.

Even with a whole week to mull it over, he isn't sure he is ready.

"Yo, Sourwolf," Stiles says as he slides open the metal door and steps inside the loft. He carries a bag of Chinese takeout in his right hand, and from his left shoulder hangs what Derek recognises as his laptop bag.

 _Why did he bring that?_ the werewolf wonders.

"I brought dinner! Obviously," Stiles announces, stopping just long enough to kiss Derek on his cheek before he walks away again to grab some plates and utensils from the kitchen.

"Not that I'm not glad to see you," Derek says, following him, "but why?"

"Because I wanted to spend some alone time with you. Duh." Stiles rolls his eyes, but his smile is fond.

"And the computer?"

"You'll find out after dinner. Don't worry, it's nothing bad."

It's Derek's turn to roll his eyes. "I wasn't worrying…" he mumbles.

"Sure you weren't, Sourwolf. Don't try to front with me. I know you too well by now."

Derek sighs and returns to the sofa, where he waits for Stiles to join him. Once he does, Derek takes his plate and fork and digs into the food the teenager has dished out for him, which is somehow all of his favourites—egg rolls; orange chicken; heaps of fried rice; and some sort of vegetable dish that Derek tastes and finds he likes too.

"Did I choose well?" Stiles asks him, watching as he samples his food.

"You did," Derek confirms. "How'd you know?"

"Like I said: I know you."

Derek hums and keeps eating, feeling a bit unsettled. No one outside of his family has made such a claim since Laura made them both leave Beacon Hills when he was sixteen years old. No one else had really cared to get to know him that well. That Stiles evidently has, and all without having to actually ask Derek much, is too much for the alpha to think about, so he doesn't. He sets it aside for now and just focuses on his food and the inane chatter with which Stiles fills the silence, rambling about whatever annoying thing one of his college professors has done now just to spite him.

When they are both done with their food, the atmosphere in the loft changes.

"So…I guess it's on to the real reason I'm here," Stiles says. He stacks their empty plates and sets them on the coffee table before unzipping his laptop bag.

Derek waits patiently while Stiles boots it up and then clicks and types away for a minute.

"Now, I could be way off base," the human prefaces with a shrug, "which would mean all the research I've done over the last week was for nothing, but whatever. I just had a hunch, and I need to ask you something and I want you to answer me honestly."

Derek is wary, but he accepts.

"Good. Guess I'll just get right to it then: What made you come last week?"

Even though he figured this was coming, the bluntness of the question catches Derek off-guard. He scrambles to find an answer, but when Stiles raises an eyebrow at him he recalls the promise he just made. "I-I…" he stammers, clenching his hands into fists where they rest atop his knees.

"Remember I'm not gonna judge you," Stiles says, putting a hand over one of Derek's. "Whatever you say next isn't gonna make me think any differently about you."

Derek nods jerkily. He opens his mouth to speak, but no words come out. He looks to Stiles with desperation in his eyes.

"Maybe if I told you my theory, you could tell me if I'm right," Stiles offers.

Another nod.

"Alright. I think that you liked me complimenting you, telling you that I thought you were doing good. Close?"

Damn Stiles and his perspicacity. " _Yes_ ," Derek croaks.

"And you were quite…pliant, I guess is a good word for it, after we were left alone together. I'll admit that in the naughty thoughts I've had about us in the past, most of them involved you being all growly and dominating, but that wasn't how you were at all. It was almost like you liked not being in charge."

"You're right again," Derek says, staring at their joined hands.

"That's fine, Sourwolf."

"It is?"

"Yup. Fantasies aside, when we do stuff like we did last week, I have no issue at all being the one in control. And as for me complimenting you, no issue there either."

Derek releases a breath. "Alright."

"Now, my research," Stiles moves on, picking up both of Derek's hands so that he can slide the laptop onto his lap. "Read all of this. I'll be doing the dishes and stuff, and then we'll talk some more afterward."

After patting his shoulder, Stiles takes the plates and leaves the room. Derek hears the tap in the kitchen sink sputter to life before he blocks the sound out and turns his attention to the screen in front of him. Open on it is a Chrome window with many tabs. Derek clicks through them and sees that they range in topic. Some display websites into BDSM and domination/submission, which he hastily clicks off of again. Then there are websites for different kinks, praise kink in particular, and even a couple of tabs with what Derek deduces is fan fiction of some kind, which features all of the above. Derek glances at the kitchen door to make sure that his ears aren't deceiving him and Stiles really is busying himself in there, and then he reluctantly clicks back to the first tab and reads.

* * *

Derek can't say how much time has gone by when he feels a tap on his shoulder. He looks away from the laptop screen to see Stiles sitting next to him, the book he had been reading before his guest arrived in his hand. Stiles had apparently passed more time with that after he finished up in the kitchen. It's completely dark outside now, not just beginning to darken like it had been when they were eating, so Derek must have got caught up with his research for at least an hour.

"What do you think?" Stiles enquires.

Derek shuts the laptop and puts it aside. "I don't know."

"That's fine. I'm sure it's a lot to take in, especially for you."

"Especially for me?"

Stiles chuckles. "You can be emotionally constipated at the best of times, Sourwolf."

Derek frowns but doesn't refute him.

"Anyway, it was just some stuff to think about, and maybe we could give some of it a go if you decide you want to."

The only answer Derek can give right now is maybe, which thankfully suffices.

"Cool," Stiles smiles, and Derek is fascinated by how easy it all seems to be for him. He wishes he himself was like that, but as Stiles so kindly put it, he is 'emotionally constipated'.

"Are you staying over again tonight?" Derek feels brave enough to ask, trying to emulate Stiles' confidence.

"Do you want me to?"

"I don't want to do anything else yet, but yeah, I do."

Stiles' smile stretches into a grin that has Derek's heart fluttering in his chest. "Then I will."

That night finds Derek in the same position, lying in bed in just his green lingerie with Stiles pressed up behind him, keeping him warm.

He falls asleep even faster this time, his sense of belonging growing.

* * *

For the next couple of weeks, things stay pretty much the same. Most evenings, Stiles will come over to the loft and just hang out with Derek. They'll usually eat dinner together, either some takeout Stiles brings with him or Derek will cook them something a bit healthier, and then they'll watch television or just talk about other things going on in their lives, usually revolving around the rest of the pack or Stiles' dad. Then, once it's late enough and they're both tired, they'll head to bed, Derek always dressed in a set of lingerie and Stiles in more pairs of borrowed sweatpants. They don't do anything else sexual and neither mentions the research again, Stiles showing endless patience by giving Derek all the time he needs to process it.

It's during the next pack meeting that the next thing changes.

Derek is sitting on his sofa while his pack begins arriving, dressed in a maroon sweater, his favourite jeans and, as always, some hidden lingerie. When his pack first started meeting like this he would stand to greet them, but as most of them just barge in like they own the place anyway, he doesn't see the point anymore.

When Scott and Allison get there, the last people to arrive since Lydia is now back in England, they sit in their usual spots on the sofa to Derek's left and then the beta sniffs the air.

"It smells different in here," Scott says confusedly.

"It does?" Allison asks him.

"Yeah."

The other betas all scent the loft too and reach the same conclusion.

"Hey yeah, it does!" Erica corroborates.

Isaac is next to speak, asking, "What is it?"

Derek is nervous when Scott's gaze lands on Stiles, who sits on the opposite end of the sofa to him wearing a blue flannel shirt and black chinos. They'd chosen to purposefully leave some space between them because they hadn't intended for the pack to find out about whatever is going on with their relationship until they'd properly pinned things down. It seems they will be outed sooner than that.

"It smells like Stiles practically lives here now," Scott says, his voice full of suspicion.

Said human purses his lips and then looks at Derek. Without him having to speak, Derek gets what he is asking and relays his answer with just a look too.

"We're dating," Stiles announces proudly. He gives up the pretence of space and moves sideways so that he is right next to Derek.

Scott gapes. "Dude…Derek? Really?"

His happiness disappearing in an instant, Stiles narrows his eyes at his best friend. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"It's just…it's _Derek_ , y'know?" Scott scrunches up his nose as if he couldn't imagine something more horrible.

"No, I _don't_ know."

"Well that went south real quick," Erica murmurs, looking back and forth between the two boys like she is watching a game of tennis.

"I just don't get it," Scott says with a pout. "Why him?"

Stiles must be able to sense how disquieted Scott's obvious scorn is making Derek, because he puts a hand on his knee and squeezes. "It's not for you to get, Scott," he says. His tone is disdainful in a way that Derek has never heard directed at Scott, and Derek feels a little better knowing that Stiles is serious enough about him to defend him like this—and to his best friend of all people. "I like Derek," the human continues, his glare intensifying. "I think he's awesome. Sure, he's been a bit shitty in the past, but we all have. I don't need to remind you about your stupid deal with Gerard Argent, do I? Or how needlessly difficult you made things back when you were first turned?"

Scott sighs exasperatedly. "That was different."

"It really wasn't."

"Still…it's _Derek_."

"I don't think that's any way to speak about your alpha, do you?" Stiles accuses. "Especially when _he's in the same room_."

Scott turns his attention to Derek and at least has the decency to look guilty when he sees the hurt that the bearded man is failing to hide entirely. "I guess not," he relents.

"Good. Now apologise, and mean it."

When Scott doesn't do so right away, Allison elbows him sharply in the ribs. He huffs but says, "I'm sorry, Derek. It's none of my business who you date."

"It's fine," Derek accepts, just wanting the conversation to move on already.

"It's not fine," Stiles corrects him, hand still on his knee, "but I'll let it go this time. Don't let me hear you speaking about my boyfriend like that again or you'll _really_ be sorry. You'd be pretty pissed if someone talked about Allison that way, and as far as I'm concerned the stuff _she_ did was way worse than anything Derek did. Are we clear?"

Scott looks away, suitably chided. "Crystal."

"And sorry for bringing that up, Ali," Stiles says to the huntress. "Just had to make a point."

Allison waves her hand dismissively. "It's cool."

"Great!" Erica interjects. "Now that Scott's finished being a tool, I'm really happy for you guys."

Isaac snorts. "Yeah, it took you long enough to get your acts together."

"What?" Derek blinks, dumbfounded.

"Oh please. From the amount of UST between you guys it was obvious this was gonna happen eventually. The only question was when."

"Right," Erica agrees. "I think Lydia and Jackson had a bet going."

Stiles' eyes nearly pop out of their sockets. "Seriously?"

"Yup. I think that means he owes her $100 now. If you'd waited until next month, she'd've owed him. They alternated."

Derek is speechless, but really he shouldn't have expected anything less.

After that, there isn't much fanfare about the announcement. The rest of the pack congratulate the new couple, but then the discussion moves onto which movie they are going to watch. Derek tunes out because he won't enjoy it whatever they pick.

"Come with me," Stiles whispers to him then, standing up.

Bemused, Derek gets up as well and follows the human into the kitchen. He can still hear his betas' squabbling, but he ignores it.

"Were you okay with me calling us boyfriends?" Stiles asks him when they are as alone as they can be. He scratches at the back of his neck, a nervous tic. "I didn't mean to just, y'know, thrust it on you like that or anything, but Scott was being a dick and it seemed like the most appropriate term to use—"

"Stiles!" Derek interrupts him before he can ramble any further. "It's fine. I don't mind."

Stiles blinks owlishly before gathering himself again. "So…boyfriends?"

"Boyfriends."

For now, Derek's mind supplies. They'll be mates later, it tells him, but he pushes the thought away.

"Right, now that that's all settled, I guess we should probably tell my dad too," Stiles adds. "If you're okay with that. You _are_ okay with that, right?"

Derek chuckles. "Yes, Stiles, that's fine too," he says.

A couple of years ago it wouldn't have been. His reputation was still in the gutter, in large part thanks to Stiles and Scott accusing him of murdering his sister, but once the big wolfy secret got out to the sheriff and everything was put into context, Derek's relationship with the older man got a lot better. He'd even offered to put in a good word for Derek if he ever wanted to join the police academy, but Derek declined. He had enough pressure and stress in his life being the Hale Pack alpha without adding any more to it by going into law enforcement.

"He's gonna want to have dinner with us, just so you know," Stiles warns him. "And he'll probably give you the shovel talk."

"I can handle it."

"I know. I was just saying."

"And I appreciate it."

Stiles steps forward then and kisses him. It's a soft thing, but Derek is quickly overcome by it. He feels one of Stiles' hands inch down the small of his back and dip below the waistband of his jeans, coming into contact with the pink panties he has on today, but things go no further than that. Derek knows it's not just because the pack is right in the other room. It's also because Stiles is still respecting his boundaries until he is given the all-clear.

What Derek did to deserve him, he doesn't know, but he isn't letting him go for anything.

"A-hem," comes a voice from the doorway.

Derek breaks the kiss and turns his head to find Cora standing there. He hadn't heard her footsteps.

"Can I speak to Stiles for a minute, big brother?" she asks him sweetly. It's so out of character for her that Derek is instantly suspicious, but he allows it.

"Sure," he says, planting another chaste kiss on Stiles' lips before exiting the kitchen.

Keeping his ears open, Derek walks back to his spot on the sofas and barely notices the movie that is now playing on his flatscreen, his pack apparently having come to a decision as to their choice of entertainment for the evening. Instead Derek tunes into what his sister is saying to Stiles back in the kitchen and is half touched and half offended on Stiles' behalf that Cora is giving him the shovel talk as well. The touched side wins out, because it's just too nice having a member of his family around who will stand up for him like this, even if he and Cora are no longer as close as they were when they were kids.

A couple of minutes later, Cora and Stiles return to the main space of the loft and take their seats too, Stiles cuddling up to Derek's side.

"Everything go alright?" Derek asks him, even though he heard.

"Yup. We came to an understanding," Stiles tells him.

The human's promise to Cora that he would try his best to never hurt him replays through Derek's head, and he believes with all his heart that it's true. How Stiles has handled him so far is irrefutable proof of that. But he'd rather die than tell Cora any of the specifics.

While the movie plays, Derek settles into a better position and wraps his arm around Stiles' shoulders to pull him impossibly closer. He sees Erica wink at him out of the corner of his eye, and though he doesn't acknowledge her, it helps that she is so accepting of him and Stiles. He thought she would be. He hadn't really thought any of his pack would have anything negative to say about the newest progression in his and Stiles' relationship, and he was right about all of them but one. Scott had, and his words had hurt. They shouldn't have, because Scott's opinion shouldn't matter to him that much, not with how contentious their interactions have always been, even after the beta finally stopped fighting his place in the pack and became less openly hostile toward Derek. Those hostile feelings were apparently just suppressed, though, and not extinguished as Derek had thought.

Still, when Stiles rests his head on his shoulder, Derek rests his on top and swiftly puts Scott's attitude toward him behind him. Stiles wants to be with him, and that's all that matters in the end.

* * *

Derek's decision regarding Stiles' research is made for him when shit hits the fan the very next day. None of them guessed that anything was coming, which in hindsight he supposes is the reason it hits them so hard. Fairies. And not beautiful, small fairies like those that feature in a lot of different works of fiction. No, the creatures that come to Beacon Hills are ugly things which seek to wreak havoc with their strange magic, putting people under their thrall and making them do terrible things.

Isaac being one of those people is what clues Derek in to the intruders in his territory. The beta comes by the loft in the middle of the afternoon, when he should be at work, and right away Derek can smell that something is off with him. There is something extra in his scent, something cloying and sweet that doesn't belong. But before Derek can ask if anything is wrong, he finds himself on his back with Isaac on top of him, claws going for his throat. It's only instinct that causes Derek to defend himself in time, and then he has an unconscious beta sprawled over him and no explanation as to why the hell it happened.

Of course, as is his wont, Stiles comes through with the research.

The human uses his connection to the sheriff's department to gather clues and discover that there has been a marked increase in violence around town. People who would usually never hurt a fly are suddenly doing things which those closest to them never would've thought them capable.

Something stupid like fairies being behind it all is the only thing that seemed to fit after Derek described Isaac's altered scent.

"Their magic leaves a trace," Stiles explains, using two sources for his research—the Internet and the Argent bestiary.

"How do we get rid of them?" Derek growls, unnerved that they had slipped into town without his knowledge.

"Find and destroy wherever they're hiding. It seems really dangerous to try and kill them, and not even the bestiary is clear on how exactly you do it, but destroying their lair should make them leave."

"So they'll just go terrorise somewhere else?"

"Yeah, but like I said, there aren't really any other options right now."

Derek acquiesces and leads the raid. Because he is the only one with the scent, he uses his superior sense of smell to track the fairies down.

When Derek finds them, they are holed up in a cave on the very outskirts of Beacon Hills, just inside the territory line. And they must have been waiting, because as soon as Derek and his betas get within fifty feet of the cave, the fairies burst out of it. Their skin is grey and wrinkled, their noses long and hooked. Their eyes are somehow dead-looking and full of menace at the same time, and their long, spindly fingers sparkle with traces of their magic.

It very quickly devolves into chaos. Some of his betas apparently forget all of their training as the fight wages on, as they attempt to get close enough to the cave to throw inside of it the Molotov cocktails they all carry.

"Scott! Where's your head?!" Derek shouts after seeing the beta only just succeed at dodging some magic that shouldn't have caused him any trouble.

"Shut up! I'm kinda busy here!" Scott shouts back, dodging another attack.

In the end, it's Stiles who throws the first Molotov, having taken advantage of the distraction the werewolves provided to sneak past the violence unnoticed. When the Molotov explodes inside the cave, all of the fairies stop at once and spin to watch their temporary home burn, which gives the rest of the werewolves enough time to throw in their Molotovs as well. The fairies are not happy. As one, they all conjure spells and aim them at each member of the pack, including Stiles. Derek isn't close enough to protect him, so it falls to Boyd. The tall beta pushes the human out of the way and is hit right in the chest by one of the spells. They both fall to the ground, but Stiles is the only one to get back up.

"What's happening?!" Erica screeches, rushing over to her boyfriend.

"I…I don't know," Derek whispers, guilt already overtaking him. He should have been faster. It should have been him who was hit.

The next hour is a blur to Derek. He remembers the fairies vanishing and a couple of the betas staying behind to put out the fire in the cave. He remembers rushing Boyd to the veterinary clinic and Alan Deaton taking him into the back room to check him over and heal him, while Derek, Stiles and the others stood around waiting impatiently for any news. He remembers the relief when Deaton told them that it would take a few days, but Boyd would make a full recovery.

Derek remembers all of this, but it's as if it happened in a dream.

When the world rights itself again, Derek is back in his loft, sitting on the sofa while someone bangs around in the kitchen. A minute later, Stiles emerges with a couple mugs, one containing chamomile tea—Derek's favourite—and the other some decaf coffee that has a bunch of milk and sugar in it.

"Drink this," Stiles instructs, handing Derek the tea.

For a while they drink their beverages in silence. The tea helps a bit, but the feeling of guilt remains in Derek.

"You want to talk about it?" Stiles asks him, reading him perfectly once again.

Derek shakes his head.

"It wasn't your fault, you know."

"How wasn't it?" Derek questions, slamming his mug down on the coffee table so hard that the remaining liquid inside sloshes out. "I'm the alpha! I'm supposed to protect my pack! I failed. Again!"

Stiles stays unerringly calm, like he can tell that it's just what Derek needs. "The pack is also supposed to protect _you_ , but that's another issue. Do you blame _me_ for what happened to Boyd?"

Derek stares at him incredulously. "What?! Of course not!"

"Really? Because if you're blaming yourself for not being able to do anything about Boyd getting hurt, it stands to reason that you should also blame _me_ for being why he got hurt in the first place."

Derek breathes out sharply through his nose. "I don't blame you at all."

"Then why do you blame yourself?"

"I just do." Derek's voice is sad now, and he slumps back into the sofa cushions. "I can't help it…"

"What would help? Would anything?"

"I don't know." Now seems like the best opening Derek is ever going to get to come clean to Stiles like he hadn't before. He takes it. "I've always been this way, and it's just getting worse as time goes on," he explains, tugging at his hair.

"What way?"

"Blaming myself. Feeling so fucking guilty for all the shit I've done wrong in the past, and it just keeps adding up."

"Is that why you were so affected when I told you that you were doing good that first time?"

"It's just so…so _hard_ being the alpha. You have to get every little thing right, and you have a whole pack depending on you to know what the fuck you're doing. And I don't! I barely know anything because Laura was always supposed to be the alpha. She got all the training, not me. I've been having to make it up as I go along, and with that comes a shitload of fuck-ups."

Stiles hums understandingly. "You're not the only person who feels that way, y'know."

When Derek laughs, it's suspiciously wet-sounding. "Oh yeah? S'there some other alpha out there who's awful at his job?"

"Well, you're the only alpha I know, so you've got me there. What I meant is that you're not the only guy in the world who struggles under the pressure of his job."

"I'm not?"

"No. Again, I don't know any personally, but I know for a fact that some guys who have high-pressure jobs find solace in some of that responsibility being taken away from them when they get home."

Derek knows they are circling back to Stiles' research. "How?"

"It isn't always a sexual thing, but it can be. They'll have a partner, a dom, someone they trust more than anyone, who will take control from them so they don't have to think or worry about anything anymore. That taking of control can be simple or it can be complicated, with lots of rules to follow; it depends on what works for them. With your insecurities, I think you would benefit from something similar, but maybe with some sort of arrangement for…punishment…if you feel like you need to make up for something you think you've done wrong."

Derek thinks about it. He can't figure out if what Stiles suggested would really make him feel better, but he can't stand feeling like this any longer than he has to. If Stiles can really help make the guilt go away, even just a little, then Derek is willing to try.

"Okay," he says.

"Okay," Stiles echoes, putting his own mug down. "We need to go over a few things first."

Derek picks at a tear in the knee of his jeans, restless. He can see his black lingerie beneath it. "Like what?"

"Ground rules. Limits, hard and soft. And what we both expect and want to get out of this. We need to get as much out on the table as we can so that there's less chance of anything going wrong."

"Right."

"You want to be the submissive, right?"

Derek flushes red but says, "Yes."

"And you want me to be the dominant and to punish you?"

"Maybe."

"Yes or no, Derek," Stiles says, his tone firm like he is already slipping into his role. Derek didn't know he could pull it off so well.

The alpha nods. "Yes."

"Have you thought of some safewords?"

"As in more than one?"

"Well, we can start off with one, but three is best. One to tell me that you're fine and we can keep going with the scene. A second to slow things down, so we can talk things over a bit more if you need some extra reassurance. And a third to end things immediately."

"Oh."

"D'you want to think of some while I get some things ready?"

Derek nods, and then he remembers that he is supposed to answer verbally. "Yes. Please."

"Alright, Sourwolf."

Stiles kisses his temple and leaves him by himself on the sofa. Derek hears the human shuffling around near the bed and then going into the bathroom, but he doesn't look. Just thinks.

Five minutes pass before Stiles returns. His shirt is gone and his jeans have been replaced by the pair of sweatpants he'd borrowed the first time he stayed over. "I've texted the pack and told them to stay away from the loft for the rest of the night so we won't be interrupted," he explains. "And they're only to call me if there's an emergency. Give me your phone."

Derek pulls the device out of his pocket and hands it over.

"I'm switching this off for tonight. No distractions."

Derek swallows tightly, unable to believe this is really happening.

"Did you come up with some words we can use?" Stiles enquires.

"No…"

"That's okay. We can use a stoplight system for now. Green for good; yellow for hold on, let's talk about this; and red for stop. S'that work for you?"

"Yes."

"Come here," Stiles orders.

The alpha is up in an instant, some long-buried submissive part of himself rearing its head. He wants to be good.

"Take off all your clothes and then get on the middle of your bed on your hands and knees. Face the headboard."

The fact that this is the first time that Stiles will see him completely naked has Derek's blood pumping fast through his veins. He ditches his henley first and leaves it in a ball on the seat he had just occupied. Next he kicks off his shoes and works on undoing his jeans. Once they are pooled around his ankles, he steps out of them, kicks them beneath the coffee table and very carefully takes off his stockings. He stops briefly to examine the spot where his jeans were ripped and is relieved to see that, somehow, the stockings escaped any damage. In just his panties now, Derek walks around Stiles to the bed. When he reaches it, he pulls the panties down his hairy legs, aware that as he bends over he sticks his ass out in Stiles' direction, and then he takes his position.

"Shh…everything's going to be okay."

When Stiles joined him on the bed, Derek doesn't know. The human is just suddenly there, running a hand down his back to soothe the tremors racking through him.

"Stiles…" Derek whimpers.

"While we're in a scene, you're only to call me 'Sir'. Understood?"

"Y-yes, Sir."

"Good boy."

It should be weird, to be called 'boy' by someone several years younger than him, but all it does is make Derek's chest feel ever so slightly lighter.

When he concludes that the alpha has relaxed enough, Stiles shuffles around to kneel right behind him and bites his bottom lip to stifle the moan that wants to escape. Derek's ass is a thing of incomparable beauty. Tight, muscular and round, the hairs from his legs continue up across each cheek, sparser around his hips and more abundant the nearer to the centre they are. Stiles can't resist getting his hands on those gorgeous hairy cheeks. He fits a palm around each one and squeezes to test their tightness, and it's apparent that whenever Derek works out he doesn't skimp on his squats. Derek arches his back and pushes his ass back into Stiles' hands, causing him to wear a grin that could probably be accurately described as gleeful.

Before he begins the punishment, Stiles spreads Derek's cheeks apart and watches as the werewolf's tight little hole twitches as it's exposed to the air.

"Sir…please," Derek says softly, looking back at him over his shoulder.

"Eyes forward," Stiles commands, releasing his cheeks.

Derek complies instantly but keeps his back arched enough that Stiles can still just about see his hole without holding his cheeks apart.

"How many spanks do you think you deserve?" Stiles asks him. He rests his hands on his thighs, because if he touches Derek again he is sure he will lose control of himself—and as far as he is concerned, that would be the worst thing that could happen. This is about Derek, at least right now, about the trust Derek is putting in him by putting himself in this position. He would never want to abuse it.

"I don't think it's up to me to decide that, Sir," is Derek's reply.

Stiles smirks, pleased. "Good answer."

He thinks carefully. Derek needs to be punished, that much is clear. But it's only the first time they are venturing into this territory, so he won't take things too far.

"I think ten should suffice for now," Stiles decides, before immediately reconsidering. "Actually, on second thought, make it twenty. We've got that werewolf healing to accommodate for, don't we?"

Derek shudders, filled with anticipation. "If you say so, Sir."

"I do. You ready to start? What's your colour?"

"Green, Sir."

The first spank comes swift and hard, Stiles not going easy on him. Derek's whole body jolts forward on the bed, the shock too much for him to hold himself still.

"Don't move, or I'll take it up to thirty," Stiles warns him. "Remember to use your safeword if you need to. Keep count if you don't."

Once he is back in position, Derek says a quiet, "One," before the next spank hits.

Stiles rains his palms down on Derek's hairy cheeks without mercy, stopping between each spank just long enough for the werewolf to say the number they are on. He makes Derek's ass dance for him, hitting him right on the fleshiest parts to make the muscles jiggle beneath skin that is still somehow tanned to perfection. As things progress, Derek's cheeks get redder and redder, until with spank fifteen they are almost as red as the lingerie Stiles had chosen for him to wear to bed just over three weeks ago. Derek's voice also gets hoarser near the end, and Stiles is stunned and enthralled when he realises that it's getting that way because the alpha is choking back the long-buried emotions that are finally coming to the surface.

After Stiles administers spank twenty, he helps Derek to lie down on his side and swiftly moves up to cradle his head in his lap.

"You did so well, baby. You were so good for me, keeping count like that," he says earnestly. He runs the fingers of his left hand through Derek's dark hair and cups his stubbly face with his right, rubbing his thumb back and forth across Derek's cheekbone. The alpha's eyes are red, but not the irises like Stiles is used to. Now it's the outsides, his long lashes slightly dampened by the tears he couldn't quite repress. Stiles coos softly down at him.

"Look at me, baby," he entreaties, just as Derek has started to settle. When Derek's gaze meets his, he smiles. "There you are."

"W-was I— Was I good?" Derek asks him, his whole face begging to be praised.

Stiles has no issue giving it to him, because he was. "You were _so good_ , baby. You made me very proud, taking your punishment like that."

Derek visibly relaxes.

"Did it make you feel any better?" Stiles asks.

"Mmhmm," the older man responds, nuzzling the hand cupping his face.

"I'm glad. Did you want to stop there?"

"Huh?"

Stiles chuckles. "Did you want to stop at the punishment and wait for your reward, or do you want it now?" he clarifies.

"My reward?"

Stiles nods. "Yup. Wanna know what it is?"

"Yes, Sir."

Still holding his precious Sourwolf, Stiles looks down the long length of his muscular body until his eyes alight on his soft cock, which lies across his hairy thigh. "I was thinking about sucking you off."

Derek perks up instantly. "Please," he says.

With another chuckle, Stiles carefully slides out from beneath Derek's head. "Turn over onto your front for a minute first. I'll be right back."

Confused, Derek nevertheless does as he has been told, crossing his arms in front of himself and resting his cheek atop them. His werewolf healing hasn't kicked in yet, so his ass still stings from his spanking. It isn't a bad pain, though. He actually relishes it and wishes it would stay for longer, because it's proof that his failures as an alpha have been made right, the slate washed clean.

"And I'm back," Stiles announces, sliding onto the bed next to Derek's left hip. "This is gonna be cold at first, but it'll make you feel better."

Turning to look, Derek watches as Stiles pops open the cap of a bottle of what looks like some sort of cream. He rests his cheek back on his arms and lets the human apply the cream to the inflamed skin of his ass. It _is_ cold, making him shiver slightly, but the sensation passes and then it's quite pleasant. The stinging is lessened but still detectable, so Derek doesn't mind and soaks up the care Stiles is showing him.

After Stiles deposits the cream on the nightstand, Derek flips over onto his back and spreads his legs when his dominant slides between them.

"No touching," Stiles tells him.

"But—"

" _No touching_ ," Stiles insists, a bit more firmly this time. "Just lie back and let me make you feel good."

Slightly disappointed but quickly getting over it, Derek fists his hands in the sheets instead and tries not to squirm beneath Stiles' gaze. He knows he looks good—that sort of self-confidence has never been an issue for him. It's more that this is still so new, both his and Stiles' romantic relationship and his submission. But, as the human licks his lips and then licks a stripe up the underside of his hardening cock, Derek puts all of his foolish worries out of his mind and just focuses on the here and now, on receiving the pleasure that Stiles will give him.

When he reaches the tip of Derek's cock, still hidden in his foreskin, Stiles sucks him all the way into his mouth and fights back a grin when the alpha groans and his hips twitch, obviously wanting to fuck up into the wet heat. He presses a hand to the werewolf's stomach and holds him down. Derek could very easily overpower him if he wanted, but he doesn't. Derek sags against the sheets with a soft whine, continuing to obey beautifully. The fact that someone so big and strong is willing to basically give up all of his power to someone much physically weaker is a very heady thought.

Derek's cock keeps growing inside Stiles' mouth. When it's fully erect, Stiles lets it slip out and admires it.

Now that he is seeing it bared, he decides that it's definitely closer to nine inches than eight, and it's thick enough that his fingers don't meet his thumb when he wraps his hand around it and gives it a couple of strokes. Even when hard like this, the head is still partially hidden in the foreskin, and this sight turns Stiles on more than anything else. Being cut himself, he is sure that as things keep progressing between them he will become obsessed with Derek's ample foreskin. He already feels most of the way there, and he has barely done anything.

"Hottest cock I've ever seen," Stiles murmurs, just loud enough for Derek to hear him. "And I've seen quite a few. Mostly in porn, but still. Point stands."

Desiring to deliver the best reward he can for Derek being so good for him this evening, Stiles wastes no more time and dives right back on that gorgeous length. He isn't an expert, but he has given a blowjob or two during his time at college, and he uses all the tricks he has learned to elicit all sorts of sounds from his werewolf lover.

Derek whimpers after a particularly forceful suck. "Sir…"

"Like that, baby?" Stiles asks him before taking him back in his mouth.

"Yes! Don't stop."

 _Wasn't planning on it,_ Stiles thinks amusedly. While he gives Derek what he hopes is the blowjob of his life, he looks up the alpha's body to his face and redoubles his efforts when all he is able to see is the underside of Derek's chin, his head thrown back in ecstasy.

"I'm gonna—" Derek gasps just a minute later.

Grateful for the warning, Stiles sits up and finishes his submissive off with his hands. He tugs on Derek's full hairy balls and even slips a finger down into the shadowed space behind them. It's as he rubs over his hole that Derek comes, his back arching off of the bed as he paints his own torso with his thick seed. It's such an erotic sight that Stiles nearly comes untouched in his sweatpants. When Derek starts to soften in his hand, he releases him, pulls himself out of the sweats and rapidly jerks himself to his own climax. He rises up on his knees just as it hits, adding his own load to Derek's.

Once he can breathe properly again, Stiles opens eyes he hadn't realised he'd closed and is satisfied by the state of his werewolf.

Derek's tanned skin shines with a light sheen of sweat. His chest hair and his pubes are matted down with their combined come, long, thick strands splattered across the entire expanse of his torso. A couple of jets even made it all the way up to his face, and Stiles can't hold back a laugh when he notes the milky fluid just above Derek's right eyebrow and on the left side of his beard.

The alpha makes a confused, sleepy sound. "Hmm?"

"Don't worry about it," Stiles tells him, stroking his thigh.

" 'K."

Now Stiles has two options. He can go to the bathroom and get a damp washcloth to clean Derek off with, or he can use his tongue.

The choice is easy.

Aware that Derek's half-lidded eyes are on him, Stiles leans down over him and begins lapping up the come he is covered with. _And now I'm addicted,_ he thinks as the first bitter taste of it bursts across his tongue. He cleans Derek up thoroughly, a slow process because he spends a few seconds after every lick to savour what he has in his mouth before he swallows and moves on to the next bit. When he reaches a glob of come near Derek's left nipple, he licks it up and then sucks the hard nub into his mouth. He worries it briefly between his teeth and then releases it, puckers up his lips and blows across it just to make Derek shudder.

Lastly Stiles licks up the come on the alpha's face, his beard scraping across his tongue. "Wanna taste?" he asks him salaciously.

"Yeah…"

He kisses Derek passionately, hands on either side of his head while Derek's end up on his shoulders. The werewolf whimpers as he licks into his mouth, obviously enjoying the taste of himself on Stiles' tongue.

When the flavour is mostly gone, Stiles pecks Derek one last time on his lips before lying down next to him. "How're you feeling?" he enquires, pulling Derek into his arms.

"Tired," is the older man's reply, the word slurred.

"But okay otherwise?"

"Yeah. Thank you."

Stiles smiles against Derek's temple. "Anytime."

Soon afterward, he hears Derek start to snore softly, and only then does he allow himself to go to sleep as well.

* * *

Stiles busies himself in his dad's kitchen, a spatula in hand as he watches over four beef burgers cooking on a skillet he has positioned over the stovetop. The choice of food will probably make his dad suspect that something is going on, because Stiles would usually never let him have a cheeseburger, much less cook one for him. In the past he has even gone to such lengths as to enlist the help of a few of his dad's deputies, just to make sure the sheriff doesn't try to break his diet.

This evening is a special occasion, though.

Today's the day, the one in which Stiles and Derek announce their relationship to Stiles' dad. The nineteen-year-old doesn't foresee any disapproval or friction, because Derek and his dad get along quite well nowadays. But that doesn't stop him feeling anxious as he checks the time on his phone, which lies on the countertop next to the stove. 7:57 p.m. Derek should arrive any minute now, just in time for the burgers to be cooked. Further along the counter are four burger buns, already cut open so that he can just slide the burgers right onto them when they are done. The rest of their dinner is in the dining room—condiments, shredded lettuce, sliced tomatoes, raw white onion, and salt and pepper.

Proof that Stiles' planning skills are awesome, just as he has finished putting the last burger on its bun, he hears the doorbell ring from the foyer.

"I'll get it!" he shouts through to where his dad lounges in the living room with a beer.

Before the man can get up anyway, Stiles scurries through and answers the door. Derek stands on the doorstep a little more dressed up than usual. Stiles spends a few seconds too long checking him out, but he can't help himself. Derek just looks so good in his navy-blue button-down and tight jeans, his hair carefully styled up and slightly off to the side. It's the perfect blend of fancy and casual, and the evidence that Derek had put in effort to get dressed up to impress his dad has Stiles' heart skipping in his chest like a lovesick teenager. Which he supposes he is.

"Hey," he greets, stepping aside to let Derek enter.

"Hey."

"You look great."

Derek looks down at himself. "You think?"

"Yeah. I really like it."

"Not so bad yourself."

Stiles grins lopsidedly. On his thinner body he wears a pair of black chinos and a Captain America T-shirt with a red flannel shirt over it. It's the same sort of thing he wears every day, but he still takes the compliment.

"What's going on here?" the sheriff asks, coming through from the living room, his beer empty.

"Uhh…why don't we all sit down for dinner and I'll explain," Stiles suggests, pushing his dad in the direction of the dining room.

"But I was going to get another beer."

"I'll get it for you."

The sheriff eyes his son for a moment and then shrugs. "Fine."

Once his dad is gone, Stiles sends Derek an apologetic look. "Help me bring everything through?"

"Sure," Derek says.

In the kitchen, Stiles gives Derek the platter of burgers to carry while he sorts the drinks. He chooses a Coke for himself, pours Derek's choice of orange juice into a clean glass, gets another beer from the fridge and then carefully carries all three beverages into the dining room, Derek on his heels. The sheriff sits at the head of the table. Stiles takes the seat to his left, and Derek sits to the left of him.

Conversation flows astonishingly easily for the first few minutes as everyone assembles their burgers, one each for Stiles and his dad, and two for Derek because of his monstrous werewolf appetite. The discussion mostly focuses around Stiles' college classes, the sheriff's week on the job, and the occasional question posed to Derek about how the betas are all doing. When the sheriff finishes his burger and leans back in his chair while patting his stomach, Stiles gets ready for the question he is sure is coming. Sure enough, as soon as he and Derek have both finished their dinner as well, his dad pounces.

"So, are either of you going to tell me the real reason we're having this get-together?" the sheriff asks, one eyebrow raised.

"We were getting to it," Stiles says quietly.

His dad looks warily at Derek. "What's my son done now?"

"Hey!" Stiles squawks. "I haven't done anything!"

The sheriff smirks. "That'll be a first."

"Unfair…"

"If you really haven't done anything, why'd you try to butter me up with the burger?"

Stiles shares a significant glance with Derek, who nods at him. "Well, dad, there's something we need to tell you. About us."

The sheriff flicks his eyes back and forth between the two other men and then realisation seems to dawn. "It's finally happened, hasn't it?"

Stiles frowns. "What has?"

"You two have finally stopped being idiots and started dating."

"You mean you knew, too?" Stiles asks, dismayed. He rests his elbows on the table and hides his face in his hands.

"You did make it quite obvious, son. Both of you did."

Stiles groans and doesn't reemerge from his hiding place, not even when he feels Derek rubbing circles over the small of his back.

The sheriff laughs at his son's embarrassment. "So how long has this been going on and why didn't you tell me sooner?"

"A few weeks," Derek responds.

"Really?"

"Yes? You sound surprised."

"There was a time before Stiles was eighteen when I thought you two were already seeing each other," the sheriff explains. He takes a long sip of his beer.

Stiles risks peeking out between his fingers. "Seriously?"

"Yup. I didn't exactly approve because you would've been underage, and I was saddened because I thought it was yet another secret you were keeping from me, and after you promised you wouldn't hide things from me anymore. But I also understood. I never said anything because I figured that if I confronted you about it or told you to stop seeing Derek, it would just drive a wedge between us and it wasn't that long before then that we got back to how things were before the other secrets stopped."

"Dad…" Stiles whispers, feeling horrible all over again at the reminder.

"It's alright, son. That's in the past. Anyway, as I said, I never talked to you about it. I thought you'd come to me, that maybe you were waiting until your birthday, when I wouldn't be able to stop you. But then you didn't, and when you started college not long after, I heard from Scott that you'd gone on a few dates with some of the other students in a few of your classes."

"Oh. I can't believe he told you that," Stiles says, annoyed. The feeling disappears quickly when his dad keeps speaking.

"None of those dates really went anywhere though, I take it?"

Stiles avoids looking to his left. "None of them were Derek, so no."

"I see."

"Yeah."

"So things are serious then?"

"You could say that."

"Well, I'm happy for you two," the sheriff says, smiling.

Stiles is bemused. "Wait, that's it?"

"What else should I say?"

"I dunno. You're not gonna give him the shovel talk or something? Maybe threaten to shoot him up with some wolfsbane bullets if he hurts me?"

"Do I need to do that?"

"No," Derek interjects. "You don't need to worry about that. I'd never do anything to deliberately hurt Stiles."

"That's settled then. See, son?" The sheriff chuckles when he sees the way Stiles is obviously touched by Derek's declaration. "That wasn't so hard, was it?"

"Can this be over now, please?"

"Sure." The sheriff downs the rest of his beer. "So what's for dessert?"

* * *

Derek comes away from the dinner with an open invitation to join the Stilinskis again anytime. It means more than he could ever say when, as he and Stiles are getting ready to leave, Stiles' dad pulls him aside, pats him on the shoulder and says, "Welcome to family, son."

* * *

The following week, Stiles sits on Derek's sofa with his laptop open on his lap. He should be writing a paper for one of his classes, but instead he is browsing the Internet, doing research into different types of lingerie. There are more websites that cater to lingerie in men's sizes than he'd have thought, and there are so many choices. There's clearly a good-sized market, a revelation that gets Stiles' approval.

It's as he clicks onto another website and sees some professional photographs of several men standing against a white backdrop that an idea occurs to him.

At first there doesn't seem to be anything special about this website. He has seen similar photographs in the sites he perused before this one, and his attention is mostly focused on the pieces of lingerie themselves and not the men modelling them. But then he scrolls back up the page and a flash of red on one of the men's faces catches his eye.

The model is wearing lipstick.

Stiles is no stranger to men in makeup. Hell, he is still in touch with some of the drag queens he met three years ago at Jungle, Beacon Hills' only gay club. But the sight of men who, barring the lingerie, look perfectly masculine while wearing makeup makes Stiles think of what Derek would look like dolled up like that, too. He already has a vague idea, as one of the men on the website isn't that far off from Derek. A few features are different, and no one is as stunning as his Sourwolf, but the model is tall, has dark hair and a neat beard framing his strong jaw. His lips are painted red and it looks like he also has on some eyeliner, mascara and a bit of blush and highlighter on his cheekbones.

Stiles hasn't spent that much time thinking about his boyfriend's fondness for wearing lingerie since their first time together. He has been too caught up with schoolwork and then with their tentative forays into the dom/sub world for that. But the lingerie was all Stiles could think about today—hence the research—and now makeup has been added into the equation.

He wonders what Derek would think of this, if it would be warping something that makes Derek feel better about himself into something that is just pleasurable for Stiles. Stiles would never want to do that, but he has to ask.

He has to _know_.

The possibility that Derek might be open to it is too tempting. Closing his laptop, Stiles sets it on the coffee table and goes in search of his Sourwolf. He finds him trimming his beard in the bathroom.

"Hey," he says, leaning against the doorjamb.

"Hey," Derek echoes, not looking away from his own reflection.

"I have a question for you."

"Shoot."

"It might seem kind of…strange, but I just saw something on my computer and it put an idea in my head."

This gets Derek to pause his grooming. He stares at Stiles with a gleam in his hazel eyes. "Is this a sexual question?"

"It could be. But only if you'd be okay with it."

"Ask away."

"Like I said, it might seem strange at first—"

"Stiles," Derek interrupts him. "You've been fine with _my_ needs and wants and never thought of them as strange. Just tell me what you want."

"Umm, well…have you ever thought about maybe, y'know, wearing makeup?"

Derek tilts his head to the side. "Can't say I have."

"Would you?"

"I don't know. What did you see on that computer of yours that brought this on? More 'research'?"

"Yeah. I was looking into lingerie, thinking about maybe getting you something." Stiles explains about the photographs he'd seen. "So yeah, they got me wondering. If it's just the lingerie, that's totally cool. We can just stick with that."

"But you figured there'd be no harm in asking, huh?"

"Mmhmm." Stiles waits a few seconds, and when Derek doesn't say anything more he gives in. "Well?" he prods.

Derek turns back to the mirror and resumes neatening up his beard. "We can try it."

Stiles wasn't expecting that answer. "What? Really?"

"Stiles."

"Sorry. I'll go buy some!"

"Just don't tell anyone!" Derek shouts as Stiles scampers back out of the bathroom.

"Like I would," he hears the human say, talking at a normal volume because he knows Derek can still hear him. "I've kept everything else a secret, haven't I? What happens in the bedroom stays in the bedroom, Sourwolf."

"Good," Derek murmurs. He finishes with his beard and keeps looking into the mirror, his eyes lingering on his lips.

* * *

A few days later, Derek is on his way back home from a grocery run, his purchases in a couple of paper bags on the passenger seat of his Camaro. When he reaches the loft he sees Stiles' Jeep parked outside. It wasn't there when he left and he wasn't gone that long, so Stiles must have only just arrived. Who'd have thought a few years ago that he would actually be excited to see him, that Derek would move just a bit quicker as he retrieves his grocery bags and walks inside the building to the freight elevator? He can imagine the field day Laura would have had teasing him were she still alive to see him acting this way.

When he opens his door, he finds Stiles coming out of the kitchen.

"Ah, I was gonna tell you that you needed to go shopping," he says with a grin. "Good timing."

"Right."

They pass each other as Derek goes to put away his groceries, stopping just long enough for Stiles to plant his usual greeting kiss on his lips.

"Come sit when you're done. I have presents!" Stiles says, practically giddy.

Derek has a feeling he knows what said presents are, but he doesn't say anything. He makes quick work of putting everything away, and once the mint chocolate chip ice cream is safe in the freezer—he didn't buy it just because it's Stiles' favourite, no Sir—he leaves the kitchen again and joins Stiles on the sofa.

"Should I even bother asking?" Derek says. He would like to maintain his brooding demeanour, but damn him, Stiles' enthusiasm is infectious and he can't help it when his lips curl upward as well.

"I think you should," Stiles responds, picking up a nondescript cardboard box from his feet.

Derek rolls his eyes but plays along, still smiling. "What did you get me, Stiles?"

"Here."

Stiles shoves the box at him. Derek takes it with only mild trepidation and has his suspicions confirmed when he pulls open the flaps and sees what is inside.

"Do you like them?" his human lover asks him.

Derek doesn't say yes right away, even though he already does. He picks up the brand-new pair of panties and rubs his thumbs over the lace, marvelling at how the material is somehow even softer than the pairs he already owns. The colour is different from his other pairs, too. It's an unusual green, with hints of yellow and brown in it. "What made you choose this colour?" Derek enquires, genuinely curious. He really likes it, but it isn't something he would have chosen for himself.

"They reminded me of your eyes," Stiles answers. He takes the panties and holds them up to Derek's face. "Yup, almost exactly the same. I'm a genius."

Next in the box is a tube of lubricant and a pair of thick leather cuffs that can be clipped together or used apart, like when securing arms to each side of a headboard. Derek looks to Stiles for an explanation for them.

"I figured you might wanna use them sometime," the younger man says. "I can return them if you don't want to, or you can even use them on me if we're not doing a scene. But it was just a thought I had when I was checking out."

"We can keep them," Derek says, taking them out of the box as well. "Don't know if they'll really be able to hold me, though."

"About that…"

"What?"

Stiles gestures to the box. "Keep going."

Intrigued, the next thing Derek finds in there is something he knows for sure Stiles wouldn't have found on whatever website he ordered the panties and cuffs from. "Why do you have wolfsbane?"

"It's for the cuffs."

Derek doesn't follow. "What?" he repeats.

"Well, I went to Deaton yesterday, and let me tell you, _that_ was an awkward conversation. I didn't tell him anything about what it was for. I just said I was curious about being able to help if we had an omega come through town or something and asked if there was a way to weaken it. Deaton gave me that. Apparently, while it's not supposed to actually hurt, it's supposed to make an omega as weak as a kitten. With an alpha like you, I figured it would work enough to make it so you couldn't rip off the cuffs by yourself."

Derek is speechless. "Oh," he says dumbly.

Stiles laughs, but not unkindly. "Yeah. _Oh_." He looks pointedly at the box again. "One last thing."

The final item in the box is a small white plastic bag, which Derek also knows didn't come from the website. The Sephora logo on the side is a dead giveaway.

"Makeup, I'm guessing?"

Stiles grins at him. "Got it in one!"

Opening the bag, Derek upends it and into the bottom of the box fall three tubes of mascara, eyeliner and lipstick. The colour of the latter is a soft pink.

"Would you've preferred a different colour?" Stiles asks when Derek doesn't say anything.

"No, this is fine," the alpha reassures him.

"Do you wanna start now or wait a bit? It's still light out, but I've kinda been thinking about this nonstop for days."

Derek shakes his head fondly. "We can start now."

"Great!"

A minute later, Derek finds himself sitting on the closed toilet lid in his bathroom with Stiles standing between his knees. He is naked apart from his new panties, which mould to his body like a second skin, and Stiles has lost his shirt but is still in his jeans.

"Don't move. I don't wanna mess this up," Stiles tells him, uncapping the eyeliner.

"Have you ever put makeup on before?" Derek wonders aloud as the human starts with his left eye.

"Not on other people."

"But on yourself?"

"When I was a lot younger, yeah. I got into my mom's stuff and was a very curious little boy. But it should be fine. I got some tips from an expert."

"Lydia?" Derek guesses.

"Nope. Try again."

"Erica?"

"Nope."

"Allison?"

"Nope."

"Well I know it wasn't Cora, so I've run out of girls I know here."

Stiles finishes applying the eyeliner to Derek's left eye and moves on to his right. "I'll give you a hint: I met a bunch of them at Jungle."

Derek racks his brain but can't think of anything. "I'm still lost," he admits.

"Alright, here's another couple clues: They're fabulously gay and they lip sync for a living."

"Uhh…"

"Come on, dude, I know you've been around when Danny's made some of us watch _RuPaul's Drag Race_."

Ah, Derek gets it now. "Drag queens?"

"Hey, you got it!" Stiles cheers.

Derek harrumphs.

"Anyway, we're definitely not doing anything as intricate as the shit they do—there's no way I'd be able to pull that off on you, and to be honest I'm way too lazy to even attempt contouring—but they told me enough when I asked."

"And what did they think of you asking them that?"

"They thought I was considering dabbling in drag, probably."

The conversation peters out there, but the ensuing silence isn't uncomfortable at all. Stiles finishes up the eyeliner and applies the mascara next, and Derek doesn't know how he feels about all of these implements being so close to his eyes. He gets through it, though, and lastly comes the lipstick.

"Let's see if this shade looks as good on you as I hoped it would," Stiles murmurs.

A minute later, the look is completed. Stiles puts the lipstick on the rim of the sink and steps back to check his work.

"Wow…"

Derek stares back nervously. "Good wow?"

"See for yourself."

Stiles takes his hand, pulls him up from the toilet lid and turns him around to face the mirror. When he sees himself, he gapes.

"Oh my God…"

"Good, right?"

"Y-yeah."

While he was willing to give it a go, Derek wasn't really sure he would suit wearing makeup. But Stiles had wanted him to, and when they were in New York, Laura had always been insisting he espouse the saying of not knocking something until you try it. Now that he is seeing the finished product, Derek actually thinks he doesn't look half bad. The eyeliner and mascara make his eyes seem larger somehow, makes the colour of his irises stand out. And his lips…the pink isn't too dissimilar to his actual lip colour. It takes him a moment to figure out why they look larger, but by leaning in closer to the mirror he sees that Stiles has drawn the lipstick slightly over his lip line.

"Drag queen tip," is Stiles' response when asked. "So you like it then?"

Derek leans back and nods. "Yeah."

"Cool. Now let's go fuck."

"You have such a way with words," Derek drawls. He lets himself be dragged out of the bathroom.

"Don't I, though?"

When they reach the bed, Stiles' demeanour changes, becoming more serious. "How do you want to do this?"

"What do you mean?"

"Are you ready to go all the way? And if so, bottom or top, and d'you want it to just be regular sex or do you want to scene?" Stiles clarifies, sitting them both on the edge of the mattress.

Derek's gaze is drawn to the box left on the sofa, which contains the restraints Stiles had bought for them. He points to it. "Would we use those if we scened?"

"If you'd like us to."

"Yeah."

"Then, if you wanna scene, we'll use 'em."

"I'd prefer to scene then."

"Okay. Bottom or top?" Stiles asks again.

"I've never bottomed before," Derek says quietly, averting his gaze.

"You ever been fingered, or rimmed?"

"Not by anyone else."

"So you've fingered yourself?"

Derek nods, and Stiles almost loses control and ends their scene before they have even had a chance to begin it. The thought of Derek fingering himself is too much. He'll have to make Derek do it for him sometime.

"That's alright," he says huskily. "Do you want to try bottoming now? Would you let me be your first?"

Derek nods again, this time more slowly.

"Great. I promise I'll make it good for you."

Stiles kisses the alpha's temple as he gets up to retrieve the leather cuffs, the wolfsbane and the lube. When he approaches him again, cuffs in hand, Derek swallows tightly when he sees the intent in his honey-coloured eyes, the serious yet somehow playful expression on his face. Stiles' dominant side is in complete control now, and it makes Derek's submissive side emerge as well.

"Lie down on the bed," Stiles instructs him. "On your back."

"Yes, Sir."

"Ah, you remembered what to call me. Good."

Derek gets into position, his head on the pillows with his arms at his sides and his legs spread. Stiles stands next to the bed on his left.

"Give me your hand."

Derek does so, and blood rushes south as he watches Stiles stain the inside of the leather cuffs with the wolfsbane he'd got from Deaton. Then he secures one of the cuffs around Derek's wrist and brings it up to one of the slats in the headboard. Already Derek can feel the effects of the wolfsbane. Like Stiles had said, it doesn't hurt him but makes him feel looser, a bit like he is floating. It's much more pleasant than the previous times he has been exposed to wolfsbane. He ponders if this is what it's like for a human to be high. It should make him feel out of control, but he has faith in his dominant. Stiles will keep him safe, and all Derek has to do is keep doing as he is told.

Once Derek's other wrist is secured, his arms stretched above his head just shy of discomfort, Stiles asks for his colour.

"Green," Derek says, his voice lower than usual.

Satisfied, Stiles walks around to the foot of the bed and just stands there. "Don't you look like a delectable treat, baby?" he says.

"Thank you, Sir." Derek blushes, enjoying that he is more like the prey instead of the predator in this scenario. "Are you…are you gonna eat me?"

"If you're good."

"I will be, Sir."

Stiles tilts his head to the side. "We'll see."

After looking his fill, the human climbs onto the bed and crawls forward until he kneels between Derek's legs, his hands resting on Derek's bare thighs. He is entranced by how fucking sexy his Sourwolf looks like this, all tied up and at his mercy. The rush of the power that Derek is so willingly giving up to him is once again heady, this time even more so because of the wolfsbane they are using. He drinks in every inch of skin he can see, from Derek's strong legs to his cock straining in the confines of the panties. From his abs to his broad, hairy chest and dusky nipples. From his muscular arms, held up and out of the way by the leather cuffs, to the dark tufts of hair nestled in his armpits. From the bobbing of his Adam's apple to his bearded face, which was already pretty enough without the makeup but is now almost otherworldly in its beauty.

"I'm gonna enjoy unwrapping you," Stiles says. He slides his right hand up Derek's thigh and cups him through the panties. "Is this for me?"

"Y-yes, Sir," Derek says, his abs twitching as he fights to stay still.

"What else are you hiding away for me, I wonder."

Derek knows he is talking about his ass and his breathing speeds up a bit.

"I'm sure I'll find out soon enough, hmm? For now, let's get you out of these. They look a little snug there."

Stiles takes his hand away from Derek's cock and curls his fingers beneath the waistband of his panties. Derek lifts his hips when told to and moans when the head of his cock catches on the lace. His aching length is pulled downward until Stiles frees him and his cock slaps against his abs, leaving a wet patch of pre-come in the fine hairs just below his bellybutton.

Stiles slides the panties the rest of the way off and lays them on the sheets. "You're a big boy, aren't you?"

"Sir…"

"Yes? Is there something you want, baby?"

"Touch me…please."

"Mmm, no, I think I'll make you wait."

Derek whimpers but doesn't complain; he is sure it would just get him punished.

"For now, let's see how the rest of you tastes," Stiles says.

Derek bangs his head ineffectually against his pillow when his dom shuffles backward and brings his lips to his left foot. He stares at the ceiling and just feels as Stiles licks over the arch and sucks his big toe into his mouth. He didn't know there was a direct line from his feet to his cock, but apparently there is, because with each toe that Stiles takes into his mouth his cock just gets impossibly harder, leaking more and more pre-come until it dribbles down the shaft and into his pubes.

Stiles switches from one foot to the other, and then he trails his mouth up the inside of Derek's leg, the dark hairs tickling his lips. When he reaches the alpha's crotch he bypasses it, paying no attention to his Sourwolf's poor neglected-looking cock or the disappointed whine he makes. He licks around Derek's bellybutton and then travels further up until he reaches his chest. Again the hairs there tickle his lips, but he doesn't mind. He nuzzles sideways and takes the alpha's right nipple into his mouth. He suckles on it almost like a babe at their mother's breast, and then he bites down on it none too gently, just to hear Derek cry out above him.

"Sir!" the werewolf practically sobs, already so worked up and they've barely begun.

"Shh, baby," Stiles murmurs against Derek's nipple. "We'll get there."

He gives Derek's other nipple the same treatment, leaving both of them red and swollen. Stiles thinks this state will only last for a couple of minutes, but then he remembers the wolfsbane and grins privately. Another side effect of this particular breed of wolfsbane is reduced healing rates, so Derek should heal at the rate of a human until the leather cuffs are removed. He gives each of the werewolf's nipples a sympathetic lick.

Next, Stiles gets up on his knees and straddles Derek's sternum so that he can reach his right hand. Like with his toes, he sucks on each of Derek's fingers, enjoying the taste of his skin, before moving back down along the length of his arm. It says something about how attracted to his submissive he is that even the dark hair on his forearm turns him on. He bites down on Derek's large bicep, leaving a ring of tooth impressions that, like the state of his nipples, won't heal for a while yet. Stiles must have been spending too much time around werewolves, because something in him is possessively pleased by all the marks he is able to leave on his lover, like he is claiming him as his for all to see.

Of course, these marks won't actually be seen by anyone else, but the idea still gets to Stiles.

Nosing further down, he pauses when he reaches Derek's armpit. Armpits have never done anything for him before—they were just a part of the human body and nothing else. Perhaps it's just because it's Derek and every part of Derek seems to turn Stiles on, but as he buries his face in the dark hair and breathes deeply, Stiles can't help the moan that escapes his lips. Derek's scent is stronger here, a mixture of deodorant from that morning, a hint of sweat, and something unique to the werewolf. It's an intoxicating concoction.

With a single lick Stiles leaves Derek's right pit and repeats the process with his left arm, starting all the way up at his fingers. He bites Derek's bicep here too, leaving another ring of teeth marks to match the set on its twin, before he makes a quick stop to sniff and lick Derek's left armpit and then insinuates himself beneath Derek's chin. The werewolf releases a high-pitched whine and tilts his head further back, giving his dom easy access to his neck.

That the alpha trusts him enough to bare his neck to him drives Stiles crazy. He litters the sensitive flesh with more love bites and sucks bruises onto it, to the point where, when he is done, Derek's neck is practically one big bruise.

When he leaves his neck, Derek's face is flushed and his eyes flicker back and forth between regular hazel and alpha red.

"Colour?" Stiles asks him.

"G-green, Sir…" Derek stammers.

"Good boy."

Derek preens at the praise, a full-body shudder going through him.

"You like that, huh? When I call you a good boy?"

Another shudder. "Yes, Sir. I like knowing I'm being good for you."

Stiles kisses the tip of his nose. "I was gonna tease you a bit more, but since you're behaving yourself so well, I think we'll move on to the main event."

He returns to his previous spot between Derek's calves, wedges his hands beneath his knees and pushes his legs all the way back so that the small of his back comes up off of the sheets and his ass is exposed. Once again Stiles is in awe of it, those hairy muscular globes of flesh that just beg to be marked.

How could he resist?

For a couple of minutes, Stiles worships Derek's hairy ass cheeks. He licks along the tight globes, matting down the dark hairs, and bites down hard on the fleshiest parts to leave yet more impressions of his teeth. He doesn't think he will ever get enough of seeing his marks stay on Derek's skin, and he knows that they will definitely be using the wolfsbane again. Deaton will probably get suspicious as to why Stiles will be asking for more of it when they haven't dealt with a rogue werewolf in a long time, but screw it. He'll think of some other excuse.

When Derek's cheeks are almost as marked up as his neck, Stiles relents and focuses his attention where they both want it most.

Derek's hole is tiny and beautiful, twitching and clenching up even tighter when Stiles blows gently on it. That no one else has ever touched Derek here does indescribable things to Stiles' insides, especially when he thinks about how Derek trusts him enough to let him be the first. And hopefully the only, because there is no way that Stiles is ever going to let Derek go now that he has him.

"You ready, baby?" Stiles whispers, his lips inches from Derek's hole.

"Sir…please…" Derek begs, his eyes a constant red now.

"Since you asked so nicely."

Stiles wastes no more time and dives right in. The first time he licks over Derek's hole, they both moan loudly and Derek tries to shove his ass back onto Stiles' tongue. He can't get any leverage in his current position, though, his legs upended so that gravity keeps them there and he is basically curled into a ball. Stiles is amused by his sub's eagerness and blows air again over his hole, knowing that, now that it's wet with his spit, it will feel cold. Sure enough, Derek squirms beneath him but once more can't get anywhere. "So cute…" Stiles murmurs.

"Stiles…"

"Ah-ah!" The human raises his head to look sternly down at Derek's face. "That's not my name, remember?"

"S-sorry, Sir. I just want you so bad!"

"I'll let it go this time, baby, but don't slip up again."

"Yes, Sir."

Satisfied, Stiles resumes rimming his beautiful alpha. He all but makes out with Derek's hole, licking and prodding at it with his tongue. Derek tastes different here, which he supposes is to be expected. It's not dirty or unclean at all, but musky and slightly salty. Stiles likes it. When he feels Derek's tight rim start to give, he seals his lips around it and sucks hard, relishing the wail this gets him. He has never heard Derek make a sound like that before, and he redoubles his efforts to see how many times he can pull it out of him.

The number turns out to be shockingly high.

Derek cries out nearly every time Stiles sucks on his rim, when he nibbles lightly on it with his teeth. When the werewolf is loose enough that Stiles can actually insert his tongue about an inch inside, he stops.

"Want these, baby?" he asks his sub. He holds up his right hand and wiggles his fingers in the air, letting him see how long and slender they are. How deep they'll reach.

"Yes! Anything!" Derek exclaims, his breathing laboured and his brow beading with sweat. "Just don't stop touching me."

"Wouldn't dream of it."

Releasing Derek so that he uncurls and lies flat on the bed again, Stiles retrieves the lube and re-situates himself by the alpha's left hip. He pops the cap, drizzles some lube onto the first three fingers of his non-dominant hand and rubs it between them to warm it up a bit, then he instructs Derek to plant his feet on the bed with his knees bent, once more allowing him access to his hole.

Stiles reaches between Derek's legs and prods at the tight orifice, swirling his fingers around the reflexively clenching rim until it relaxes enough for him to slide his index finger inside. He goes slowly, initially only going up to the first knuckle. He thrusts it slowly in and out, watching Derek's face all the while to gauge his reactions. Derek has his hands fisted around the slats in the headboard and his eyes are locked on Stiles'. There is no pain in his expression, so Stiles pushes his finger in up to the last knuckle and corkscrews it, amazed by how his sub feels around the digit. He is so hot inside and his walls are silky-smooth.

Stiles can't wait to experience what it's like to bury his cock to the hilt.

"Ready for another?"

Derek whimpers and nods emphatically. "P-please…"

Still with great care, Stiles inserts his middle finger into Derek's hole alongside his index. He hesitates when Derek hisses through his teeth, but the pain must pass quickly, because just a few seconds later the werewolf is once again begging him for more.

"Mmm, the way you feel around me," Stiles murmurs, leaning down to trail kisses over Derek's left pec.

"Sir…"

"So hot, so wet. So needy for me, aren't you? You're so desperate for my cock."

"Yes!" Derek agrees fervently, pushing back onto Stiles' fingers in an effort to get them deeper. "Want it so bad!"

Taking pity on his sub, Stiles inserts a third finger and repeatedly scissors them apart, slowly stretching him out. When Derek isn't tight like a vice around him, he wiggles in his pinky and deems him ready.

"Shh, it's okay," he reassures when he removes his fingers and Derek makes a noise that is close to a sob. "I'm not going anywhere, baby."

"Feel so empty," Derek complains, staring beseechingly at Stiles.

"Don't worry; we'll get you nice and filled up again in a minute."

Stiles bites Derek's nipple to distract him and then takes his position between Derek's legs. He undoes the button and zipper of his jeans and yanks them off none too gently, followed by his Deadpool boxer-briefs. His cock finally freed from its prison, Stiles moans after he squirts some more lube onto his palm and slicks himself up. He has been hard this entire time, and his cock is even more sensitive than usual because of it.

"I'm gonna fuck you now, baby," Stiles says, aiming the head of his cock at Derek's prepped hole. "Try not to tense up again."

"Okay, Sir."

Holding his breath, Stiles begins to push inside. He is unable to tear his gaze from how his sub's hole stretches around the bulbous head and then seals tight around the shaft when the widest part is in. Both of them moan loudly. His cock is bigger than his fingers, so Derek has his head thrown back and his eyes are clenched shut as he gets used to the new stretch. Stiles gives him a few moments and then moves forward another inch.

It takes several minutes for Stiles to sheath himself completely, for his pubes to scratch against Derek's perineum and his balls to rest against the top of Derek's hairy cheeks. Once he is in, he finally resumes breathing properly again. The effort it took to go so slowly means he has joined his sub in sweating, and he has to wipe his forehead off on his forearm to prevent himself from going temporarily blind. That would be the worst thing that could happen, because he doesn't want to stop looking at Derek.

He never wants to stop.

When the alpha opens his eyes and peers blearily up at Stiles, Stiles asks if he can finally start moving.

"Yeah, I'm good," Derek confirms, wrapping his legs around the human's narrow waist.

"Oh, thank God…"

Stiles can barely contain himself as he withdraws from the searing heat of Derek's ass. It feels just as amazing around his cock as he thought it would. He has fucked a few people during his time in college. Every time was meaningless, because, as he told his dad, he was still hung up on Derek. This isn't meaningless. It's the furthest thing from it, and it just makes everything that much more intense. A couple of his past partners were guys, so he knows what it's like to fuck inside of an asshole like this, but none of those times measure up. He wonders if it's just because of the way he feels about Derek, or if it's because Derek had never done this before today. Whatever the explanation, Stiles' chest is fit to burst with the overwhelming emotion that grips him as he thrusts back into Derek's welcoming body, reclaiming the space he'd just made for himself.

"You feel so good, baby," Stiles gasps, moving a bit faster. He falls forward and holds himself above Derek with his hands planted on the mattress on either side of Derek's armpits.

"Sir…"

Stiles gives him another syrupy thrust. "You like that?"

"Y-yeah."

"Good. Doing so good for me, Sourwolf. Such a good boy, taking me so well like this."

As with the other times he has been called a good boy, a shudder goes through Derek's body. He strains his arms against the cuffs, wanting to get out of them, to touch his dom, but because of the wolfsbane he is powerless. For a flash he is taken back to a time several years ago, when Kate Argent had him restrained beneath the ruins of his family home. He had no power back then either, but unlike then he doesn't feel in any danger. Sure, it's frustrating to want to touch Stiles and not be able to, but he doesn't feel unsafe at all. He casts aside the bad memory—a bitch like Kate doesn't deserve another second of his time, after all—and just enjoys the feeling of his dom deep inside of him.

It was an odd and slightly painful feeling a first, being split apart by Stiles' cock, but now all Derek feels is pleasure as Stiles thrusts steadily into him. He arches his back and all but howls when, with a particularly well-aimed thrust, the head of his dom's cock grazes his prostate. He sees fireworks and his own cock leaks profusely where it lies hard and untouched atop his abs, constantly dribbling pre-come, adding more to the growing pool on his tanned skin.

Eventually, Stiles speeds up the rolls of his hips until he is fucking Derek hard enough to make his breathing laboured. He needs more, needs to make his Sourwolf scream for him again and again before this is over. And it's going to be over disappointingly quickly, if the tingling in his lower gut means anything. He can feel his orgasm coming on and would be embarrassed about coming so quickly if Derek's ass didn't feel so fucking good around him, if Derek didn't look so fucking good spread beneath him, giving himself up.

"I'm getting close," he warns his sub, thrusting harder still.

"Sir…I need to come!" Derek says plaintively, rolling his head from side to side. It's maddening, being kept on the edge for so long by Stiles' cock repeatedly hitting his prostate but never being able to tip over.

"Yeah? You wanna shoot your load all over yourself like a messy boy, just like when I blew you?" Stiles rasps.

"Yes! Please let me come for you!"

How can Stiles say no?

He all but collapses on top of Derek, pressing him down into the bed while still moving inside of him. He can't pull out that far in this position, especially not with Derek's legs wrapped around him like a vice, but he can move enough, and this way he gives his sub's poor neglected cock some friction where it rubs back and forth between their stomachs. "You're gonna come just like this," he tells Derek, their faces inches apart. This close he can smell the makeup he wears. "You're gonna paint both of us with your come, mark me up with it, and then I'm gonna shoot inside you and mark you there so you'll be dripping with me. You'll smell like me for days. Everyone will smell me on you and know that you're _mine_."

It's the possessive declaration that does it. Derek doesn't stand a chance. As soon as Stiles says he's his, an animalistic growl to his voice, Derek goes rigid and his vision whites out as he comes.

Stiles keeps fucking him through it, the continued assault on his prostate prolonging things and sending him to new heights of pleasure he didn't know existed. When his orgasm finally ends, Derek goes completely boneless, his hands limp in the leather cuffs and his legs slipping from around Stiles' hips. It doesn't seem to matter to the human, though, because he just keeps on going, now fucking him purely to chase his own orgasm.

Derek lets him, even if he is a bit oversensitive.

"Kiss me."

Stiles growls the command, grabbing Derek's chin and crashing their mouths together in a sloppy, uncoordinated kiss that's more teeth than anything else. Derek's lipstick smears across both of their faces but neither minds, Derek because he is too busy enjoying his afterglow to care, and Stiles because he is just a few thrusts away from fulfilling his promise and filling his sub with his jizz. A few seconds later he tears his mouth away from Derek's and bites into his collarbone as it happens. He keeps fucking Derek as his orgasm rips through him, until he stops shooting and his cock starts to soften.

This time Stiles really does collapse atop Derek, suddenly too exhausted to hold himself up anymore. Luckily Derek is more than capable of taking his weight, so he doesn't worry about it as he lies there and breathes into the alpha's sweaty neck.

When he is able to move again, he slips out of Derek's ass and gathers just enough energy to undo the restraints from around Derek's wrists. The skin is reddened and irritated from being exposed to wolfsbane for so long, but his sub assuages the panic he feels when he tells him that it doesn't hurt.

With Derek freed, Stiles wraps his arms around him and praises him.

"You were amazing, baby," he murmurs, his breath ruffling Derek's messy black hair. "So proud of you."

"Really?" Derek asks him sleepily.

"Yeah. You were so good the whole time. Felt amazing."

"You felt good, too. Really liked it."

Stiles is glad he could do justice to Derek's first time bottoming. "Did I wear you out too much to get up, or can you last long enough to shower before you fall asleep?"

Derek chuckles. "I think I can last long enough."

The couple lie in each other's arms for another few minutes, enjoying the quiet intimacy, before they reluctantly move. The sheets stick to the drying sweat on their skin, and both of their torsos are slathered in Derek's thick come. Yeah, they could really use a shower.

Stiles has to help Derek get to the bathroom. The alpha is so fucked out that he has trouble walking, looking like a newborn fawn.

"Shut up," he huffs when Stiles laughs good-naturedly at him.

After wiping off all the makeup from their faces, they enter the shower, grateful that the stall is big enough for two people. Derek gets himself wet by standing beneath the warm spray and then holds still while Stiles washes him from head to toe. He tilts his head back and hums contentedly when the human works his sandalwood shampoo into a lather in his hair. It feels so good, especially when Stiles purposefully scratches his short nails across his scalp.

"You're like a cat," Stiles comments with a giggle.

"Am not."

"You're pushing into my hand for more attention, Sourwolf. You're totally a cat, which is weird, given that you're a werewolf and all."

"Whatever. I regret nothing."

Stiles kisses his shoulder blade. "You shouldn't. It's _adorable_."

Once the shampoo has eddied down the drain, Stiles moves onto body wash. He makes sure that every inch of Derek is squeaky clean, taking extra care when he reaches his cock and the crack of his ass. When he brushes his finger over Derek's hole, he can feel his own come dripping out and smirks.

"Don't start something neither of us can finish," Derek warns him tiredly.

"Relax, I won't."

After that, Stiles washes both Derek and himself as thoroughly and swiftly as he can. Already he can see the marks he made on the alpha's body beginning to heal, the bruises turning greenish-yellow and the rings of red teeth impressions fading to pink. When he is finished, Stiles wraps a towel around his waist and grabs another for Derek, who is just stepping out of the shower stall. He pats the alpha dry, then they both put on a bit of deodorant and walk naked out of the bathroom and over to the bed, where they encounter a problem: The sheets are still rumpled and filthy, with sweat and come stains all over them.

"You have spares, right?" Stiles asks Derek.

"Of course."

 _Crisis averted,_ Stiles thinks a few minutes later, when they have remade the bed.

"Sleepy time for us," he murmurs as they climb onto the mattress and pull the fresh sheets over themselves. They lie facing each other, their legs entangled and the afterglow somehow lingering, despite how long it has been since they both had their orgasms.

The moon outside provides just enough light for Stiles to see Derek's face, and the emotion he'd felt when he was inside of him returns. He can give a name to it now, and as scary as it is, it also just feels right. Something about the way Derek is looking right back at him makes him believe that the alpha feels exactly the same way about him, and in the end it's him who says the words first.

"I love you," he whispers, reaching out to stroke over the side of Derek's face.

Derek turns his head and kisses his palm. "I love you, too."

Nothing else needs to be said. As they fall asleep, both lovers know that, whatever may come in their futures, whatever new or renewed personal struggles either of them may deal with, they will always have each other to rely on.

And that's everything.

**Author's Note:**

> This fic now has a sequel: [_Effective Stress-Relief for a Submissive Alpha_](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15999761).
> 
> About this fic: I'd been craving some more bottom!Derek, and I'd recently read a few other PWPs which featured Derek in panties and wanted to try my hand at it. I have no idea how something that was supposed to be reasonably short turned into this, but apparently this particular subject matter really inspired me and I ended up putting some sub!Derek in there too. That, when combined with Derek's insecurities, seemed like a recipe for disaster, but Stiles was there to make everything alright. :D Please let me know with a comment if you enjoyed this fic. Your support keeps me inspired. :D
> 
> Stay tuned for my next PWP, in which Derek was born with a wolf cock, complete with sheath, and Stiles is obsessed with it.
> 
> **P.S. Don't forget to subscribe to me to be notified when my future fics go live, which will all be Sterek. And please check out my past fics if you haven't already and are interested.**


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